Secrets and Roguery Book 5
by S.Hagen
Summary: Having defeated the Mask of Winters the reputation of Heron, Sparrow and Ivory grows, but they have no time to rest on their laurels, for Lightning has brought them a problem, the solution to which will take them throughout and beyond Creation. Enemies also move against them, and it is time to seek out allies. Rated Mature as always, just in case.
1. Zero Act

List of Characters from previous stories

Untruths of Time

Sparrow Hawk and Lightning

To Stand once more in the Sun

Solar Exalted

**Sparrow Hawk** \- Dawn Caste - Airship Captain who exalted when fighting a demon.

**Heron Jade Eyes** \- Eclipse Caste - Gambler, beautiful man

**Ivory Peleps** \- Twilight Caste - Child of the Empire, sorceress and engineer

Lunar Exalted

**Lightning** \- Fullmoon Caste - Servant of the Silver Pact

Sidreal Exalted

**Dreaming Blue** \- Chosen of Secrets - Seeks the Orrery of the Unseen Stars that Ivory possesses

**Gracious Shaia** \- Chosen of Serenity - Acquaintance of Dreaming Blue

Terrestrial Exalted

**Anzar Ragara** \- Water Aspect - A Dragon Blood who tried to kill Ivory and Heron

**Kihoshi Cathak** \- Fire Aspect - A Dragon Blood who joined the hunt for Ivory and Heron, now Heron's servant

**Peleps Jade Dolphin** \- Water Aspect - Ivory's mother

**Mnemon Gazan** \- Earth Aspect - Leader of the Empress's Left

**Menmon Tolsay** \- Earth Apsect - Member of the Empress's Left

**M**aheka Yoti - Earth Aspect - Member of Lookshy's Sorcerer Engineers, Ivory stole his armiger

Abyssal Exalted

**Faded Maiden of the Tomb** \- Midnight Caste - Servant of Walker in Darkness, hates Nihilistic Courtesan

**Truth Found in Pain of Fire** \- Daybreak Caste - Servant of Walker in Darkness

**Nihilistic Courtesan** \- Day Caste - Rogue Abyssal, Lightning's mate

**Cold Rain** \- Midnight Caste - Rogue Abyssal

**Whispers of the Dead** \- Moonshadow Caste - Rogue Abyssal

Ghosts

**Abbess Cloud Hands** \- once an Air Aspect - Killed by Heorn

**Mnemon Grace** \- once an Earth Aspect - Killed by Heron

Gods

**Kage Hu** \- God of things in Shadows, servant to Five Days in Darkness, protect Ivory

**Darken Gray** \- God of Corporal Punishment, servant of Aisha Hikari Ex

**Aisha Hikari Ex** \- God of Children

* * *

**Secrets and Roguery**

Through Out Creation - Zero Chapter

The conversation was a low susurration, like the gentle flow of water; always there and equally meaningless. To Anzar the water like association offered some peace, but not as much as the opium he smoked from a long, jade pipe; or the rough and burning alcohol he drank.

The proprietor of the 'bar' shuffled softly up to where Anzar sat straight backed and placed a small, resinous ball of opium in a silver dish that was on the small table top. Behind him a young woman, pretty enough, but for her bruised eyes, carried another bottle of the clear liquor, 'white lightning' that Anzar had been drinking near constantly.

He nodded and the woman placed the bottle on the table. The proprietor walked away, but the woman remained, standing by the table, in her thin outer robe, tugging slightly at the material to expose more of her full breasts. Anzar shook his head and held out a handful of silver bits to her. She nodded and took them, then left as well.

He turned his pipe in his hands for a time, feeling the smooth silver and jade fittings, each part precisely created and assembled. It was a small work of art. The pipe's metal bowl had gone black with use. He scraped some of the burnt resin and smoke stains away with a thumbnail.

Around him people came and went, passing through the small door, finding a seat, or more often sprawling on cushions. Some were taken further into the building, where they would not disturb the other patrons as they sought their own escapes into less peaceful madness.

Escape, Anzar thought, as, with a silver knife, he cut a chunk of opium from the ball. They all were escaping something. Carefully he filled the pipe bowl and then with a pair of scorched, iron tweezers found a burning coal in the ceramic bowl resting on the centre of the table. With the coal he set the opium to burning.

Time meant little in the dimly illuminated room. It was cut off from the world outside, as much as could be arranged. No one bothered him, asked for anything, just came and placed liquor and drugs in front of him, made subtle offers of other things. As long as he had money they would continue to do so. He smiled as he put the pipe aside for a moment, knowing that they would continue to do so even if he had no money. He was a Dragon Blood after all, and he was in the capital city of Dragon Blood Empire. This was a place where proper respect would be shown.

He worked the cork from the bottle the girl had left and filled his tall glass to the rim.

Whether he was deserving of that respect or not.

Musing as he was Anzar missed the subtle change in the atmosphere of the establishment, and it was not until he head a soft gasp, so unsubtle in the den, that he pulled himself away from murky thoughts and looked up.

A tall man walked through the bar, his robes not really covering his jade breastplate, his hood pushed back showing a head shorn of hair and a hard, cruel face. Anzar had seen him before, but even if he had not he would have recognized the Master of the Pinnacle and the Wyld Hunt; Peleps Deled.

The girl, bravely, probably foolishly, approached, as if to ask the man if he wanted anything, but the words died still on her lips and her knees looked as if they might buckle as Deled fixed her with a stare but for a moment. He continued into the room, unconcerned with the people who shifted out of his way, or left the den entirely. Finally he stopped and took a seat across from Anzar.

"Ragara Anzar," Deled said, his voice raised with no regard to the quiet that all maintained.

Anzar nodded, and reached for his pipe, but the Master of the hunt was faster, his hand coming down to snap the pipe. "We must speak," Deled said.

Swallowing to moisten a suddenly dry throat Anzar nodded.

Deled looked about and then asked, "Hiding in such a place does not befit one of the Blood of the Dragons. Does fear, humiliation, or perhaps," a sneer coloured his tone, "a broken heart send a Dragon into hiding?"

Anzar shifted, leaning forward, for a moment a flare of anger burning away good sense. "Don't judge me."

Deled's hand was wrapped in the cloth of Anzar's shirt, faster than he could see, and he was pulled close to the hard face of Deled. People stood, quickly vacating the den. "Answer my question."

Anzar said nothing, and Deled released him. "I've read the reports," he said. "Your hunt was quite the failure. Of course I put much of the blame on Cloud Hands. She should have know better."

Anzar felt that Cloud Hands deserved better, but his earlier anger was damped. "You were not there," he said calmly.

Deled smiled cruelly. "I've dealt with worse. She failed. You failed as well."

Anzar was silent, firming his jaw.

"Tell me about Dreaming Blue."

"What do you want to know about her?" he asked after a moment.

"Who is she?"

Anzar shook his head. "I don't know."

Deled frowned. "I dislike her. She seems to be a cipher."

"She always served the cause of the Order," Anzar told him.

"Did she?" The cruel smile played at the corner of his mouth.

"She did."

"Perhaps that is true, but only, I believe, because it served her cause. There are others like her," he bit off the words, "making a mockery of the Faith. Do not let your feelings blind you to that fact Ragara Anzar."

"I trust her," Anzar said, though he felt his words ring hollow.

"You are a fool then, but I do not need you to hunt this woman. I want the demon in the form of the Peleps girl."

"It all started with her," he said quietly in agreement.

"I will not have anyone speaking of that thing as if she were some kind of saviour." There was venom in his words, and his fingernails carved shallow furrows in the wood of the table as he closed his fist.

Anzar looked at the man and realized that Deled's world was in danger of being knocked askance, as Anzar's world had been by the betrayal of Dreaming Blue. The Shadowland being closed by a Solar, by an Anathema, one who accomplished what the Dragon Bloods could not; such a thing could not stand in Deled's world.

Anzar was careful to say nothing of the sort.

"I do not know where the girl has gone."

"Then we will find her together."

It was on his lips to ask why, but good sense stilled that question. "You will lead a Wyld Hunt against her."

Deled nodded. "And the other Anathema with her, and those who follow, willingly or not."

Anzar picked up the glass of liquor in front of him, before Deled could stop him, but he did not drink from it. Instead he carefully poured it back into the bottle, then put the cork into the neck. "I will use this to drink a toast over their dead bodies," he said to Deled, lifting the bottle by the neck.

Anzar did not really believe the words, but he spoke well enough that likely Deled thought he did, for the master of the Wyld Hunt smiled.

Anzar answered the smile with one of his own as he got to his feet. In truth he was terrified, certain he was going to his death.

* * *

With great care Mnemon Gazan wrote several characters onto the map, in red ink. The characters spelled out 'Blossom'. Blossom, was, as far as Tolsay and his agents had been able to figure out, Heron Jade Eyes, disguised as a woman.

He leaned back from his map, looking at it. In black ink Heron's name was written. In blue ink the name 'Verity Jinx', in red 'Blossom' and in green 'Chalim Ofons'.

The names covered a large part of the lands in the South, the Scavenger Lands, and up into the North.

"One man could not have done all this," he said.

Across from him knelt a woman, pretty, a little plump, dressed in a formal, mannish suit. She leaned forward, her short, brown hair falling forward, brown eyes scanning the map. "Chalim Ofons?"

"Young man, bookish, nervous, by all reports, twitches when he plays. Most people think he is lucky."

"Really? I mean, I accept that Heron can disguise himself as Blossom or Verity, he is, by all reports, as beautiful as any woman, but some bookish guy? How can the guild not see through that disguise?"

Gazan tapped his finger on one incidence of the name in green; which appeared twice in Nexus, once in Great Forks, and once in Gem. "I have thought of that myself Lin, but Chalim seems a likely choice, so I leave him on the list. There are three more possibilities, but I am not certain enough to add them."

Lin Iselsi was a member of the Left, serving as a Liaison to The Thousand Scales and the All-Seeing Eye. He would not trust her but for the fact she was completely loyal to the Empress.

Lin looked at the map. "He's gambling quite a bit."

"And not like he usually did. Gentleman Gambler was how most people described him, win or lose, always polite, but not now. Now he is taking gambling houses for all he can. He's broken the bank at three Guild casinos."

"The Guild will not be happy. That explains the disguises?"

"They can't ban him if they can't identify him. And he is damnably fast. He outruns news of his actions, and then changes to a new identity and starts the process again."

"How long as he been doing it?"

"Three months."

"That is a great deal of money."

Gazan smiled and nodded. "A great deal, and I don't know what he is doing with it." He looked at her. "Yet."

"I will see if I can follow the money trail."

"Good."

"You know he wants money now, for some grand project no doubt. We could give him quite a bit..."

He shook his head. "He'd never fall for such simple bait, but as you say, he needs money. I have Tolsay looking into it. He is going to find someone unpleasant, possibly with the Guild, to set up a con around, then offer to bring Heron in. It is transparent..."

"Very much so."

Ignoring her Gazan continued. "But he will probably go for it, and it will be a start. And none of our own money spent."

Lin reached forward, spreading out several pages on which were sketches. "One could see Blossom and Heron as sisters."

"Sister and brother."

"No one could ever see two like that standing side by side and assume Heron was male. Unless he was naked." She paused. "I would dearly love to see him naked you know."

"I'm sure you and many others."

"Yes. Now Verity on the other hand looks like a scared little mouse, a librarian, or someones' forgotten daughter. If she came to a casino I owned I would turn her away immediately just because, well, why would a little mouse come to a casino?"

"Casinos exist to part fools from their money and don't do well turning people away."

"Perhaps that is why I am not running a casino. Still don't think Chalim is Heron."

"Time will tell. Find out what he needs the money for, and while you are at it I need to know who in the Upper Echelons of Thousand Scales is still completely loyal to the Empress."

"I will do so." She got to her feet, then knelt down and put her hand on the picture of Verity. "May I have this?"

"Why?"

"I have a servant I want to dress up like this." She smiled.

He waved his hand and said, "Take it."

"Thanks." She took the picture and nearly flounced from the room.

Returning his attention to the map he wished he had Heron Jade Eyes working for him. He could accomplish great things with an agent like that. Though, he thought, picking up the picture of the beautiful man, it seemed more likely that he would end up working for Heron.

And the dangerous thought was that he might not mind such a thing.

He put the picture aside and got to his feet, walking to his window, looking out over the gardens. "Where are you right now my Empress, and what is it you plan for your Empire?"

* * *

The staff of the Seven Fold Lotus were busy. They were always busy of course, maintaining a manse of Seven Fold Lotus' size was a large job. Opal Peleps had grown up the manse, it and the grounds around it had been the entirety of her world until she had exalted. She knew the ebb and flow of the manse, and knew that the servants were preparing for something.

Nothing too large, she thought, no one too important. She acknowledged the shows of respect from the servants as she passed, but did not let it slow her. Possibly a magistrate was coming to visit, or some minor functionary of the court. She might have asked, but she had heard important things and she must talk to her mother about them.

She was tall, for a woman, an athletic build, mostly concealed by her clothing. She was pretty, long black hair, and tanned skin, and dark blue eyes that seemed to glow at times.

Turning a corner took her out of view of servants and other, lesser household members. With the privacy she started to run, her kimono sleeves flapping as she moved. Quite unseemly, which is why she had waited until she was unobserved. Down the hall, out into an open plaza, not often used for there were no easy exits from it. A cul-de-sac existing for the purpose of essence flow in the Manse, not a structure built for the convenience of its inhabitants.

She quickened her pace, leaping up, her foot touching down on the rim of the central fountain for a moment before she sprang up and forward. The silk of her kimono snapped like a sail as she covered nearly thirty feet in distance to land on a balcony railing twenty feet up from the ground.

Pace unbroken she leapt from balcony railing into room beyond and then into a hall.

Opal had to slow her pace slightly, once more entering the well travelled paths of the manse, but her earlier burst of speed and the shortcut had bought her some time. Probably not enough though.

Up ahead the corridor turned, and would turn again before it would bring her to the staircase she sought, and then she would have to backtrack. She looked about, saw she was alone, for a moment, and ducked into one of the side doors. This brought her into the third level of a vast library, lit by the sun streaming through large windows of adamant panes.

Below her scholars, students and others perused the library and its contents, but few were up in the higher levels, and no one saw her cross the wooden walkway, open one of the window panes, and then leap out.

She dropped quietly into an empty, walled garden, between a pair of ground level windows, unmarked stone at her back. Two young children were sitting in the shade of an apple tree. They stared at her, surprised. Opal regarded them for a moment as she put her clothing to rights. She did not recognize them, likely children of the servants, hiding from work or taking a break.

Placing a finger to her lips, holding them with her gaze for several seconds likely got her point across loud and clear. She turned and walked towards a gate. Pushing it open and stepping out nearly put her at her mother's elbow, but her timing was a little off, and she ended up beside the Majordomo, a pretty young woman who managed a quick smile before shifting to the side so that Opal might approach the woman in the lead.

She stepped forward, waited a moment for the stable master to get his instructions, then addressed her mother. "Might you spare me a moment mother?"

Jade Dolphin turned towards her daughter and smiled. "Of course Opalescence, but for the moment I must deal with other issues."

"Yes mother," Opal said, and then took a step back so others might speak with Jade Dolphin.

They walked along the bricked tiled path, towards the river, her mother assigning tasks to her senior staff, clarifying things when necessary. All the things required to run the manse and the other lands that her mother commanded. Opal was worried that she might not get a chance to actually speak to her mother when the dock came in sight.

Jade Dolphin paused in her discussion with the master of the kitchens and looked back at Opal. "Get the gondola ready, you will be rowing."

It was on Opal's lips to say, 'Me?', but she had been too well schooled, and instead dipped her head in a bow and said, "Of course mother."

She stepped forward, lengthening her stride as much as her clothing and decorum would allow, reaching the white gondola, tied off with a number of other small craft, several steps ahead of the rest of the crowd. She cast off the bow mooring, and then took a long oar from a rack. Stepping one foot into the boat she was able to offer her mother her hand to assist her into the craft.

Her mother settled, Opal undid the stern mooring and then used her foot to push the gondola from the dock. Settling onto the end she spun the oar, dropped the end into the water, and with a sweep turned the bow towards the middle of the river. A few strokes took them from the calm pool near the docks, into the river's current. It gently took the boat and pulled it into its embrace.

"Satisfactory," her mother said.

Rare praise, Opal thought, moving the gondola out towards the middle of the river. "I remember when you took me out on the river, just after I exalted," Opal said.

"I am glad to hear that. You were supposed to remember it."

Jade Dolphin's tone carried a subtle edge to it, letting Opal know she had made an error in drifting into nostalgia, stating something so obvious.

She did not try to defend herself, or make excuses, instead focused on her rowing, lifting the oar from the water, spinning it in an arc above, and then plunging it smoothly into the river on the other side of the gondola. When her mother had preformed the same maneuver, many years ago, she had brought a spray of water with the oar, that had formed a rainbow above them, beautiful and amazing as not a drop of water had fallen on the boat.

Something expected of a water aspect, but not something that Opal was willing to try yet.

"The river," Jade Dolphin said, dipping a hand into the cool water, "protects us, as much as anything. You may speak freely while we are upon it."

She did not look back at Opal.

Opal was silent for a moment, and then, "They say that Peleps Deled requested house aid in a Wyld Hunt he is leading. They say that you refused it to him."

"Deled is a fool who is going to his death. Of course I refused him."

Opal swallowed, in spite of her mother's words that they were safe upon the river.

"He is a powerful man, and he hunts," she paused, "an Anathema who likely killed Ivory."

Her mother laughed, and shifted back on her elbows, extending her neck so she was looking back at Opal from an upside down perspective. "He is hunting Ivory, no demon that took her shape."

Lazily she lifted her head so she was once again staring in the direction that river took them.

Opal considered her mother's words for a few seconds. "So you hope that Ivory can be of use to you."

"Very good," Jade Dolphin told her, not looking back.

"What is she?"

"She is your little sister, the same girl that occasionally spoke true prophecy and I sent to Gazan Menmon. She is just more powerful now."

"I don't understand," Opal said.

"There is nothing wrong with that. You lack information. When I took you on this river I told you many things."

"And you said there was more that you might one day tell me."

"And this is one day," Jade Dolphin told her. "It has been our family's privilege and duty to maintain the essence flows in the Prefecture of Juche. The essence flows in this part of the island are of vital importance to the health of the Blessed Isle, and of the workings of the Sword of Creation.

"There are many materials that our line has needed to perform our duty, materials that have been sanitized so that we might not know the truth. The thing is, however, had they been sanitized too much, they would have been useless. Truth has remained, the result is that members of our line have always known too much."

"Too much about what?"

"About history, about history as it happened." Her mother shifted in the gondola, looking towards the banks. "Of course knowledge of true history has always been of little use, for there was nothing that could be done with it. Until they returned in great numbers. And as your sister has become one of them, that knowledge is even more valuable."

"Become one of what?" Opal asked, still rowing, keeping the gondola moving fast and steady.

"A chosen of the Unconquered Sun, a Solar Exalted, and, possibly, a true ruler of Creation. And there is no longer just one or two of them, appearing once every decade or so, as was the pattern in the past, but hundreds. Deled's time is over."

"How do you know that Ivory will do what you want though?"

Jade Dolphin laughed. "Opalescence, why do you think your sister would be able to refuse me? It is not as if you can."

Opal nodded after a moment. "What would you have me do?"

"Watch and wait Opal my dear, and be flexible in your thinking. This is a time of change and those who cling too tightly to the past will be lost."

* * *

In The Lands of the Dead - Plotting of Ghosts

In the Underworld no city was as grand as Stygia, the city that sat at the centre of the land of the Dead, as Mount Meru and its ruined city of Meru was the heart of Creation. Built around the Well of Oblivion it was, in its way, part of the wards that protected the rest of the Underworld from complete destruction and Oblivion.

The city was one of ghosts, mostly, but as it had been built in part by mortals, mortals still found safety, of a sort, within.

In the city district called Soul's Lost, the Death Knight Cold Rain and a single zombie had found such temporary shelter.

On the upper floor of an elegant, monochrome mansion Cold Rain looked, from a bay window, down on the fine brick roadways and highborn ghosts that walked them. The room that he was in was very nearly empty, but for a few pieces of old furniture, and a large object, covered in silk, pushed up against one of the walls. Cracks lined the walls and ceilings, and mould grew here and there.

He was not bothered by the shabbiness of the room, for it was quite common in Soul's Lost. The elegance and beauty were just facades of the old and crumbling heart of the district. If anything he was amused at the ghosts, desperately trying to hold onto their living lives of opulence with so little to do so with.

He heard a soft rapping at his door, three rapid knocks, a long pause, and then a final one. The thought of ignoring it played on his mind for a few moments, but he finally looked to the door and said, "Enter."

The door opened and a tall, thin woman, with long red hair and dark skin, entered. She was as mortal as he, and like him was a Death Knight, once in service to the Mask of Winters.

"So why do you come here this time Whispers?" he asked her, turning back to the window and the performance below.

Whispers of the Dead closed the door behind her. "I thought you might like news," she said softly.

Cold Rain had found her when he had entered the Mask's holdings to obtain his Monstance of Celestial Portion. He had helped her obtain hers as well, as she had helped him. He had no idea where she had hidden hers, but his was in the room with him, covered in silk so he did not have to look at it.

As the reliquary of his Black Exaltation, and where the power would flee were his mortal life ended, it was as much a part of him as his arm. It was not something he had wanted anyone else to lay their hands on once the Mask of WInters had been ended.

"News of what?" he asked.

"The Maiden of the Mirthless Smile still holds Thorns of the Underworld, what is left of it."

"Has any other Death Lord made a serious play for it?"

"No," he heard her say after a moment, "though the walker in Darkness has sent some scouting missions. She tells her followers that the Mask of Winters will return."

"I wonder if she really believes that?" Cold Rain asked softly. He did not, was certain the Mask was gone.

She must have known his question was rhetorical for she did not answer, but said, "I have heard that the Lady of Darkness in Bloodstained Robes has sworn service to the Lover."

Cold Rain laughed at that. "Her and her Death Lord's appetites might match, but I would be surprised if she lived out the year. More likely the Lover will end her and find someone more interesting to exalt in her place. And what of the Disciple of the Seven Forbidden Wisdoms?" he asked, suddenly finding a liking for this game.

"I do not know, but, the Physician of the Black Maladies travels to speak with the First and Forsaken lion, though if he does so with the Maiden's knowledge I do not know."

"And Typhon?"

"There have been many deaths in the River provinces. I believe he is working out certain issues."

Cold Rain left the window, walked into the room, picked up a bottle from a worn table and then filled two glasses. Pausing for a moment to gently stroke the rotting face of the zombie who stood close, he then picked up the glasses and carried them over to Whispers, holding one out. "What say we drink a toast to Typhon then, who seems to be having fun in all this?"

She took the glass he held, almost hesitantly, and lifted it. He brought his up, tapped it against hers, filling the room with a soft chime. Then he drank. Watching Whispers drink, her throat working as she swallowed the contents, he waited, and then asked, "And what of Whispers in the Darkness, who does she serve?"

The question surprised her, but he had timed it so she did not choke on her drink. "I do not serve anyone, like you I am on the run."

"Liar," he said to her, with no real heat, and finished off the contents of his glass. "Now, show me the respect I deserve and tell me."

Holding the glass in two hands, nervously fidgeting with it, she said, "I have been approached by agents of the Lion. They've asked me to extend an invitation to you?"

"And have you told them where I am?"

She shook her head.

"And were you followed here?"

She shook her head again.

"So killing you might be of a benefit to me."

She looked uncertain for a moment, and then said, "I will not go quietly."

He laughed softly. "I will think on it. Thank you for the message."

She nodded, put her glass down, and left.

Cold Rain returned to the window, wondering if he really wanted to remain in the service of any Death Lord. He looked at the silk shrouded Monstrance. He might, remain a rogue, do as he wished, take what little freedom he could.

It did not seem such a bad thing. But he would have to give up fantasies of revenge, for without a Death Lords backing and the resources it brought he would be foolish to pursue the powerful entities he had battled against.

"What do you think Mother," he asked softly, "shall I be a slave again?"

No answer was given, for which he was grateful.

* * *

The Noss Fens was full of stagnant, scum covered pools and streams; thick black moss hung from the trees. The life energies of the elemental Pole of Wood mixed with the energies of death in the Shadowland, so that things grew and rotted at the same time.

In the centre of the Shadowland was the Mound of Forsaken Seeds; a vast labyrinthine ziggurat, sunken into the fen so only a hundred feet of the top was visible above ground. Within, the tunnels and chambers of the Mound were odd and disquieting, lacking right angles or parallels line.

It was the power base of the Dowager of the Irreverent Vulgate in Unrent Veils, and there she dwelt with her menagerie of foster children.

Cloud Hands, now a ghost, had been brought to the Mound, with Grace, by Shoat of Mire. She had not met the Dowager, for which was she was glad. She had seen the living children, with their fear filled eyes, and she had seen the ghosts. Many ghosts. The majority of them destined to become soulsteel.

She and Grace had been given fine raiment, and comfortable quarters, and they were made to look out at the forge that took ghosts and turned them into soulsteel. It was terrible, but Cloud Hands did not think to run. To run would be to give up her hatred of Heron Jade Eyes. To run would be to accept the call of Lethe and to be reborn, new and unknowing. That she could not accept, that her vengeance against Heron might never bear fruit.

If she was strong enough, then she would play her part in Heron's destruction.

If she could endure.

It was what she had been promised.

Grace and she did not speak often, they had little to say that had not been already said. They only waited, refusing to be cowed by the terrible sights they were forced to watch.

"Almost done," Shoat of Mire said.

Surprised, Cloud Hands turned to look at the child.

"What do you want?" Grace asked, trying to hide alarm with anger, Cloud Hands supposed.

The child knelt near the small table where Cloud Hands and Grace spent most of their days. She was dressed in a silk shift, the once delicate embroidery gone to tatters with age, and the material yellowed from too many washings. She canted her head to the side and put a pinky into one ear, working it back and forth in small circles. "I want to ask you about Ivory," she said, bringing her finger out to look it over.

She was not disturbed by the forge and the cries of ghosts, but Cloud Hands had been told the children of the Mound were surrounded by soulsteel, made from the ghosts of their parents, grand parents, great grand parents, and even father back. Obviously they were inured to the idea.

"What do you want to know about her?" Cloud Hands asked.

"Why?" Graced followed.

"There aren't many children Exalts," the Shoat of Mire explained. "So I want to meet her, if I can."

Cloud Hands and Grace looked at each other, then back to the child. "I saw her call foul magics against the Wyld Hunt," Cloud Hands told her. "And found many dead by her hand or the claws of her tiger."

"So she's a sorceress," Shoat said. "Neat. What else?"

"She would have been raised in luxury," Cloud Hands told her, "well educated, though possibly harshly so."

Shoat snorted. "Don't think she's got it more harsh than me."

Cloud Hands nodded in agreement.

"She will be capable of being unfailingly polite, if she choses to, and a master of etiquette, if she chose," Grace said.

"If she choses to?" Shoat turned her gaze to Grace.

"The way we are raised. She will think too highly of herself, and is not old enough that anyone will have beaten that idea out of her. Likely no one will now."

"So she could be fun to play with," Shoat said.

"I think the two of you would become fast friends," Cloud Hands said, and it was not a compliment.

Shoat of Mire only smiled, suggesting she knew the true meaning behind the words. Instead of speaking more of Ivory she asked, "Do you think your hate is going to be strong enough, or will you just get lost with all the other ghosts?"

"It will be," Grace stated. "We will overcome."

"We shall see," Cloud Hands told her.

Shoat smiled. "Good, cause it's happening t'morrow." She smiled. "I'm gonna watch."

Cloud Hands felt ill, but did not let it cross her burnt face, and only nodded. "Then tomorrow our questions are answered."

* * *

The hand that closed on the soulsteel railing was claw like, the skin withered, the flesh underneath melted away. Faded Maiden of the Tomb had grown more powerful in the weeks since she had returned to the Underworld, weeks spent meditating on the Void. The power of it had entered her, strengthened her, but had left her changed. She looked more skeletal, the curves of the limbs had disappeared, and she had grown gaunt.

She was not concerned with these changes, for those that served Oblivion, as they grew in power, would never appear average to mortal eyes. And the signs of death upon her body pleased the Faded Maiden.

She looked down from the tower fortress, on the Walker's forces, gathered below in neat, orderly rows. They moved in uniformity, marching past their officers, weapons raised in salute.

Would they be sent today to take the lands that had until recently been claimed by the Mask of Winters? It was a question that everyone asked for the Walker in Darkness was not open with anyone. She wondered whether when the time came if she would be marching with the troops, or left in her comfortable cell.

Since she had returned, after her debriefing with the Walker in Darkness, she had been left alone, to meditate and train, but confined. Was she prisoner or being given a chance to recover from wounds? She did not know and no one would tell her, assuming they knew.

Someone called her name, she looked back towards her room, saw one of the ghosts that served her.

"Truth wishes to speak with you Madame."

"Thank you," she said in a voice that had grown harsh, "show me to him."

Truth was waiting for her in the foyer. With him was a jade effigy, carrying a large chest across its shoulders.

"Truth, I am glad to see you," she said.

He nodded. "Lord Walker has sent for you, I have brought your new armour."

She felt her heart speed up in her breast as the effigy placed the chest on the floor. She stepped closer as Truth popped the heavy clasps. When he opened it she saw the black metal of soulsteel within and was able to truly relax for the first time in many weeks.

"I shall let you prepare. You will find Lord Walker in the mausoleum." He dipped his head in a bow, and then left.

The ghosts came and helped Faded Maiden prepare. She did not even bother to have them carry the chest to her rooms, but stayed in the foyer, shedding her clothing so she stood naked, unashamed of her withered form. Soft cloth of silk steel, dyed black, was draped across her, to provide some padding where the armour might otherwise pinch and bite. Then the plate armour was placed on her.

It was a full suit, covering every part of her, the joints cleverly designed so that she might enjoy full mobility even while she was protected. She put on the helm, which fully enclosed her head, and was formed in the shape of a skull—the jaw could split open and shift back to free her mouth so she might talk clearly she supposed, or feed.

Flexing her fingers in their soulsteel gauntlets she looked into the chest, expecting to see a weapon, but there was nothing else. Behind her helm she frowned.

"Will there be anything else Madame?" one of the ghosts asked.

"No," she said, keeping all doubt from her voice.

She strode from the room, the metal of her boots ringing loudly on the stone floor, as the armour softly moaned around her.

For the first time in weeks she exited the tower, nearly running down the stairs. She slowed her pace slightly as she walked the brick road, around the drill square where the ghosts still marched, towards the vast mausoleum where the Walker in Darkness held court.

At the foot of the long stairs that led up to the jade clad, steel double doors, two bone striders stood guard. They held pole-arms with bladed heads that were nearly larger than the Faded Maiden. The weapons were crossed, creating a barrier to the stairs. She almost had to stop lest she run into the steel, but at the last moment the bone striders lifted their weapons so she might pass.

It showed little respect, and worried her.

Refusing to dwell on it she strode up the stairs. The doors opened just before she reached them, and she stepped into the dark chamber beyond.

There were others there, but her focus was completely on the Walker in Darkness. He was tall, muscular, in a soulsteel breastplate over scarlet robes. His skin was blue, hair white and his eyes glowed with an orange light. Those eyes turned on her and the Faded Maiden felt as if she was laid bare before him.

"I have been waiting for Courtesan to return," he told her.

The Faded Maiden swallowed and then said, "Yes my lord."

"Had she returned I would have had her kill you."

The Faded Maiden felt her knees grow weak, and she gritted her teeth and forced her legs to hold her up. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"She has not returned," the Walker told her, "so instead, I charge you to the task that you willfully followed of your own accord before. You will go forth and kill Courtesan, for I have questions for her ghost." He reached down and grasped an object wrapped in black silk. He pulled the material from it, revealing a huge, soulsteel axe; a grand grimcleaver.

"An axe for an executioner," he told her, holding the weapon out towards her.

She stepped forward and took the weapon.

"Do what you need to succeed."

"I will my Lord," she said, the axe settling heavily into her hands.

"If you fail at this task your life will be forfeit, and your unlife will be suffering." He smiled.

"I understand my Lord. Courtesan will die."

* * *

Rumours fly like snow in the North

The largest city in the North, Whitewall occupied a large, fertile valley. Over 700,000 people lived there in the different districts of the city: Foretown, closest to the city's single gate, Midtown, and Afton. Afton, the farthest from the gate, was where the upper crust of the city lived.

Less crowded than Foretown and Midtown (and the slums of Underton) one could walk the orderly stone streets of Afton, without having to deal with the jostling masses. And, if agile enough, could run.

The runner was tall, with pale skin, and long, blue black hair that hung heavy and yet flowed like the waves of the ocean. Her black jade half plate was strangely silent, absent the creakings of leather and mail. She was Terrestrial exalted, a beautiful young looking woman who moved smoothly between the other pedestrians, so fast that she was clear of them before they could admonish her.

Turning into a narrow street she sprung up, leaping between one wall and the other, climbing three stories in only a few strides. The balcony on the third floor ran completely around the building, but she only circled halfway around before jumping across to the roof of another building.

Her boots skidded on the stone roof as she came to a stop near the roof's occupant. He was a bugged eyed, older man, with skin that was nearly the colour of snow, and eyes like ice.

He looked up from the brazier he had been warming his long fingered hands at. "Some people would use the stairs Blue," he said.

"Oh poo on the stairs, there is a line up at the stairs of people who want to get up here. You know I hate line ups." She pouted cutely.

"But they are orderly," he said, and looked back to the brazier.

"Orderly is for other people." She dropped down onto her knees, spreading her fur cloak around her. "What news do you have from Thorns?" she asked him, dark green eyes sparkling.

"News from Thorns is very valuable," he said softly. "Everyone wants to know about Thorns. Perhaps I should hold onto it." He looked up at her from under his brows, smiling.

"You couldn't hold onto anything," Blue said, and dropped a bit of jade into the brazier.

He reached in heedless of the heat and pulled the jade from amongst the coals. "I have heard some interesting things from Lookshy and the Marukan Alliance," he told her, looking at the jade. "This might be good enough for half of those things."

"Couldn't you just ask for more money like a normal person?" She took another piece of jade and dropped it into his palm.

He closed his fingers around the jade. "The Tyrant of Thorns is gone."

"I know this," she told him in a raised tone.

"No, you knew that people were saying he was gone. I am telling you that he is gone. That is news that comes from Lookshy. And the entire shadowland is gone as well, replaced by lands tainted by the Wyld."

"So you would be at home there."

"If you did not have money and power you could get by on your looks, but not your charm," he told her.

"Thanks. What else can you tell me Frog?"

He rolled the jade in his hand. "The ones that ended the Mask, the riders name some."

"Tell me," Blue ordered.

Frog seemed a little taken aback and shifted backwards, nearly falling from his stool. Blue reached out, grabbing his wrist and pushing another piece of jade into his hand.

"There was a woman called Sparrow Hawk," he said quickly. "According the to the riders she would not stand out, but they say she is a great general, a destroyer of the dead. And a beautiful man named Heron, though he did not directly fight the Mask. And a little girl named Ivory."

"A little girl? It sounds as if you are making things up to sell your story," a voice very like Blue's said.

Both Frog and Blue looked towards the Speaker. She was a woman, who looked exactly like Blue, but for her red, fine hair, that moved like fire.

"I don't make things up Red," Frog said, angrily.

"Of course he doesn't neesan," Blue said. "He can only charge so much for his news because it has proven to be true."

"There is always a first time."

"Not today," Frog said angrily.

"What else do you know?" Blue asked him, holding up a piece of Jade.

His eyes tracked the small bit of precious material then his gaze drifted to something off to Blue's right. She turned to look, saw he was looking towards the central temple.

She looked back at him, dropped the jade into his lap. "What?"

"They say Sparrow and Heron were champions of the Sun, and a Wyld Hunt called them Anathema, but the riders would not hear of it."

Blue looked up at Red. "Well worth a little bit of jade don't you think neesan?"

Red turned and looked towards the temple as well. "This time Blue-chan, this time."


	2. The Wyld Flower Prison

**Chapter 1 - The Wyld Flower Prison Beyond Creation**

Once, the Solar Exalted had marked the boundary between Creation and Chaos with vast, jade monoliths. The constructs were more than just signs, for they also denied the Wyld and protected Creation.

Then the Solar Exalted looked out into the Chaos that lay beyond these markers and chose to make the Wyld theirs. And so they pushed out the boundaries of their lands, turning chaos into order. Often the new boundaries were again indicated with the monoliths of Jade, either new crafted or moved out from the more stable places of Creation.

In time the Solars fell, and many died in that war. The Great Contagion came and 9 in 10 would die. The forces of chaos would rush into the weakened Creation at those times, taking back the lands that had once been wrested from their grasp.

Many of the monoliths were destroyed, but some remained, to protect against the chaotic influence of the Wyld.

Many were sentinel at the current edges of Creation, but some guarded lands that had long ago been reclaimed by Wyld, creating pockets of Creation in the border and middle marches of the Wyld.

Over the centuries these were discovered by the Lunar Exalted, who patrolled the Wyld, and the Lunars were all too glad to claim them and find a use for them.

The Wyld Flower Prison was a place the Lunars had constructed to hold their prisoners, though it had been centuries since the Silver Pact had seen fit to imprison anyone there.

To reach it one had to always pass through a field of always changing flowers, where pools of water flowed into the sky, and steel wolves hunted. The pollen of the flowers was a powerful soporific and an even more powerful aphrodisiac. The steel wolves would couple with any victim of the flowers before they devoured them.

Few passed safely through the flowers without powerful protection.

But those that did, once they stepped out of the flowers and onto the neat lawns around Wyld Flower Prison, were safe enough. The obelisk was three times the size of most others one might fight, and was made from red jade as well as white. The red jade would spit fire at any creature of the Wyld that dared to cross the threshold.

When the prison had been in use many of those held there were simply left to make their ways upon that lawn, for no guards were needed when stepping beyond the confines meant certain doom.

But there was a structure for those prisoners who might be resourceful enough to pass the flowers.

Hovering over the obelisk was a structure of dark grey material. The greater structure was ovoid, over five hundred feet in height. The smaller structure was shaped similar to the larger, but only a tenth the height. They were connected by a pipe two hundred feet long.

The larger was the prison, the smaller served as a gateway and administrative building.

A small staff had been left at the prison, to maintain it, to watch out for the interests of the Silver Pack, to remind the creatures of the Wyld that it was not forgotten.

It was a staff that had recently changed, younger people replacing the older, for the prison once more saw use.

A single prisoner was housed in the Wyld Flower Prison.

A Death Knight, captured by a Lunar, sent beyond the borders of Creation.

* * *

The prisoners' uniform was made of a soft, light blue material. Strong enough for regular wear, not so strong that the cloth might be used for much else than clothing. Pants, a loose, long sleeved shirt, and cloth slippers.

In the Nihilistic Courtesan's case the uniform had been altered slightly, giving her a burial cloak of black silk. Someone understood there might be issues denying a Death Knight at least a few of the trappings of death.

Courtesan was not entirely certain how long she had been there, months at least.

She knew she was somewhere in the Wyld. She did not remember the journey that had brought here there, but the sense of the chaotic energies was a weight that was always upon her.

Sitting in a chair that, like the uniform, was comfortable but lacked any real uses beyond sitting, Courtesan read a book. Her cell was comfortable enough, more a suite really, with bathing facilities and a small room where she might exercise.

She was mostly bored, occasionally angry, but for the most part she was patiently waiting and thinking. The voices of the Neverborn were faint, easily ignored, so far from Creation and surrounded by the Wyld. After being driven by those voices for so long, so hard, to be able to simply ignore them was a luxury she had never dreamed.

Escape was not completely absent from her thoughts, but it was only an occasional and not entirely welcome visitor.

A soft chime made her put the book to the side.

"What do you want to speak about today?" she asked.

A voice, female, probably, asked, "Tell me your name."

"I am called Nihilistic Courtesan," she said.

"Your real name. What they called you before you became a Death Knight."

"That name is gone," Courtesan said.

It was not the first time she and her questioners had danced around the topic, it had become more of a ritual, something to start off the interrogation.

"Perhaps you could tell me where you were born?"

It was a new question, and new questions always made Courtesan pay attention. She paused, seeking that familiar yet uncomfortable feeling that would tell her if the Lunar was present. She did not find it.

Her next thought was whether to answer the question. In the past failure to answer had made them leave her alone for days of boredom. She saw no real harm in what they asked and she hated the boredom.

"There was a town, about a days ride from Great Forks. It was called 'Wayfarer's Rest', but it was destroyed more than a year ago. That is where I was born."

"Are there any servants of the Walker in Darkness operating out of there?"

"I don't think so," she said, thought of course she did not know. She knew little of the Walker's true military strength and disposition of forces, though she had hold her questioners what she knew, suspecting it would not harm Walker in the slightest.

There were more questions, most she had heard before in one form or another, and she knew they were making sure her story stayed consistent.

They wanted to know about the Death Lords, the Never Born, about any other Death Knights she might know. She really knew so little, but she shared what information she did have.

There were no other new questions that day, and eventually the interrogation ended. They thanked her and that was all.

She left her seat, and the book she had been reading. She climbed onto her bed and pulled the cloak around her. When would they send someone in to interrogate her directly? There would be much to learn if they were face to face with her.

And that would give her a chance to take a hostage and escape; or at the very least tell her more about her captors.

That was probably why they handled the interrogations remotely, why she had not seen a single person since she had woken up in this cell.

Really, she just wanted to see another person. Loneliness was beginning to tell on her.

It was almost enough to make her miss the whispers.

* * *

The Fair Folk had always taken an interest in the pocket of Creation and the prison on it. It was a respectful interest, for the flowers and steel wolves were just as dangerous to the inhabitants of the Wyld as they were to visitors from Creation. And the lands protected by the jade obelisk were dangerous to all but the most powerful fair folk.

The fae creature that wandered the periphery of the flowers was not among the most powerful. It was a cataphract, a warrior caste fair folk, and it had made the patrol many times.

It paused, turning towards a new comer. "Well hello," it said, drawing a lengthy sword from across its back. "Shall we do battle this..."

The axe swung out, taking its head from its shoulders.

* * *

Garen served the Silver Pact, as his father and grandfather had. His great grandfather was a Lunar, and that bloodline allowed him access to some charms, and had awakened his essence. That bloodline also gave him goat like teeth and body hair that was more fur than hair.

He patrolled the lawn of the prison, sometimes looking out over the flowers. He was not tempted by them, for he had been told how dangerous they were, but he always looked to see if something was coming. He had not thought that his service to the Silver Pact would be as a prison guard.

A patch of silver amongst the pinks and reds of a particular field of flowers caught his eyes. He stepped closer, mindful of the boundary between the lawn and the flowers. Was he looking at one of the wolves? He took a collapsible spy glass from his long coat and snapped it open, then brought it to his eye.

It was a one of the steel wolves, or it had been. Something had cut its head off.

He was turning back towards the prison when the butt of an axe took him in his right side, snapping a few of his lower ribs.

A heavy weight fell on him.

"I have some questions I will need you to answer," his attacker said. "You will answer them."

* * *

The administrative section of the prison was reached, by most, by the lift system. The car rose up along a pole, opening on a short walkway. There should have been several guards there, both to stop possible escapes, and to examine anyone who might want to enter the prison.

It had been so long since the prison had been used that proper procedures had been forgotten.

No one stopped the figure in black who stepped from the lift and crossed the walkway to enter the prison.

* * *

Courtesan sat up on her bed, wondering if she had heard a scream. Turning her head she listened, wishing she had the essence to sharpen her senses. She could not be sure, there might have been an echo of the sound, but it was so faint.

Several minutes later she heard a louder sound. A loud click and metal sliding on metal. Then a section of wall she had suspected might hide a door opened up, confirming her suspicions.

A tall, middled aged man stepped into the room, pulled the door closed behind him, juggling a cloth bundle in his hands as he did so. "Here," he said after he had closed the door, and tossed the bundle towards Courtesan.

Curious, and a little off balance, she caught the bundle as she examined the man. Thick, curly brown hair, greying slightly, bushy beard, small brown eyes, pale skin; he might have been from almost anywhere in Creation, but for this wolf like ears and large teeth. He wore a black buff jacket and a long sword sheathed at his side.

The bundle he had given her was a light grey buff jacket and long knife, almost a short sword. "Someone has come for me," she said, and then pulled the buff jacket on.

"They are here for someone, and I can't see it being anyone else but you," he told her. His large teeth did not fit well in his mouth, and gave his voice a strange, flat tone.

"Did you see who it was?" She belted the knife around her waist, pulling at the blade to make sure it would easily slide free of the sheath. A bow would have made her feel better.

"No, not directly, but I heard whoever it is was dressed in all black armour, and carried a huge axe."

That might be anyone, Courtesan thought, but she only nodded.

"Follow me," the man said, crossing the room to another section of wall she had also been suspicious of. He did something with a small box, there was another click and again the sound of metal sliding on metal. He had opened another of the hidden doors.

She stepped out, he followed, closing the door behind them. They were in a long corridor, doors, like the one she had just exited, spaced along it in uneven intervals. The beastman went ahead, moving quickly, his long strides forcing her to run.

It had been so long since she had been near someone living she fancied she could smell his blood, and the essence it contained. However she was not certain that she might best him in the conflict it would require to get his blood. And at the moment she was fairly certain she needed his help.

They reached an intersection here the man paused, and Courtesan managed to catch up. He held up a hand to forestall any questions. He was listening, Courtesan realized, and she took a similar pose.

She saw him stiffen, and she thought she might have heard a scream.

"We're cut off," he said.

Courtesan looked around, licked her lips. "We have three different directions."

He shook his head. "All dead ends, or..." he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. "Go to the left, follow the corridor until it comes to an end. There will be a door there. Use this," he held the box out, "press the green and then the brown switches, that will open it."

She took the box, looking it over, taking note of the coloured switches and the small, coloured, gem like protrusions.

"When you open the door, look at the box. If the yellow gem is flashing don't continue into the room. It's a choke point, the room, and if the defences are active it will tear you apart."

"And if they are not active?"

"Cross the room, exit through the door directly opposite to the way you enter. Outside of the room, on the door frame, there is an indentation that will fit that box. Put it in and press the red and black switches. That will arm the room. Anyone following you will be the one torn apart, or at least slowed."

"What about you? What will you do?"

"I am going to continue straight, maybe lead them off, give you time."

"Why? Why would you do that?"

He smiled at her, showing his too many and too large teeth. "I swore to serve the Silver Pact's interests, even unto death. We were told to keep you contained, and to keep you safe." He turned and started away from her.

"Wait, what's your name?"

He looked back. "Mattou. If I don't make it, remember it will you? I don't plan to become a ghost, and it will be nice to know someone might think well of me." Then he turned away from her and continued on, lengthening his pace.

Courtesan watched him for a moment, then turned and ran down the corridor he had indicated, following it until she reached the door. The device she carried opened it, and the yellow gem remained dark.

Beyond the door was a large room, with several other doors leading into it. A choke point, she thought. In case of a mass escape, force the prisoners into one place to deal with them. Clever, she decided.

The far door opened for her, and outside the room, in a curving corridor, she found the indentation, followed the instructions she had been given.

Taking a few steps back brought her against the wall. She leaned against it, the box clutched tightly in her hands. Who had come for her, she wondered. Was the Faded Maiden chasing her once more, or had Walker sent someone else? Or was it the servant of some other Deathlord, perhaps the followers of the Mask of Winters, seeking some sort of revenge for her trespass on his lands?

Not enough information, she decided, and looked to her left and right, at the curving corridor that limited her visibility. After a moment she turned to her left and set off at a quick walk.

The corridor continued on with its gentle curve, and she wondered if it would eventually lead her back to where she had started. Before she might have that question answered Courtesan came upon a set of stairs, leading up and down. She paused for a moment, then chose to go up.

For perhaps an hour she wandered the prison, continuing upwards when she found stairs, sometimes opening doors to pass through cross corridors. It was a huge prison, with floors of suite like cells, similar to where she had been interned, and in other places the cells were simply single small rooms.

In a room that looked like a hospital she paused to look through storage cupboards. The medical supplies within looked old; bandages in paper covers that had grown brittle, bottles holding gummy liquids and various pastes and unguents that were almost powder.

Then she found the instruments. Several scalpels, their blades still honed razor sharp, as well as some spike like probes. From the back of one cupboard she found a wicked looking bone saw with a solid heft.

Her investigation was interrupted by a sound from outside the room; a soft, bumping sound. As it did not seem to be the sound of metal boots on the floor she crept to the door and opened it.

She found herself face to face with a zombie.

Courtesan had seen zombies before, but none so freshly dead, and none that attacked her. She leaped back, swinging the bone saw out, catching it across the skull, the blade crunching deep into bone. The zombie stumbled to the side yanking the bone saw from her hand.

Ducking to avoid its attempt to grab her, she ran out of the room, breathing heavily. No essence, and close up fights were not what she had been trained for. The safe distance of the bow was her preferred way of fighting.

Ahead of her another of the undead stumbled from a corridor, turning a ruined face towards her. She continued towards it, then dropped, sliding along the floor, under its graceless attempt to grab her, then rolled to her feet, running once more.

Two more zombies ahead of her forced her to double back, then climb a set of stairs to get clear.

She stopped for a moment, breathing heavily. The zombies must have been the prison's staff, now raised from the dead and set to hunt her.

Or herd her.

No time to dwell on that. She fled down another of the curved corridors, hoping to find another set of stairs. Ahead of her, coming around the the curve, she saw another group of zombies.

How were they moving so fast? There could not have been that many people to be raised.

As the dead were still some distance from her she paused for a moment, looking at them. She recognized Mattou, from his thick beard, thought it was covered in blood. She might have felt bad for the man, except she was too concerned with staying alive.

There was a door close by. Threading the interior corridors would take more time, but she could not go forward and did not want to go back. She unlocked the door, crossed the threshold and then locked the door behind her.

A moment later she was running again, along the corridors, seeking another door that would lead her to the outer corridor.

She opened a door, gently pushing it open, peeking through.

The door was suddenly yanked open, pulling her forward. She might have screamed, but a hand grasped her across the mouth, silencing her. She was pulled up straight, handled roughly, but her attacker was no zombie, nor figure in black armour. It was the Lunar who had captured her.

"Do not scream," she said softly.

Courtesan looked into dark eyes that held no sympathy. She nodded.

"Are you hurt." The hand came away from her mouth.

"No," Courtesan said.

"Then let's go." She took Courtesan's arm around the wrist and led her into a hallway, towards a blank wall.

With a box similar to the one that Courtesan herself carried she revealed a hidden door. Lightning directed Courtesan through the door, into a small room beyond. As soon as they were in the door closed and she felt the room begin to move.

"A lift?" she asked Lightning.

"People mover." Lightning released her hold. "Moves horizontally as well."

It might explain how the zombies kept up with her.

"Where are we going?"

"Out. We're leaving the prison."

The Lunar did not seemed to want to look at her anymore than she had to.

"How is it you are here, at this time?"

Her gaze shifted, she looked at Courtesan for a moment before looking elsewhere. "I heard some rumours of a Death Knight in the area. If they were true it was likely you were the target. Was almost too late I suppose."

Courtesan did not reply to that, not sure how to feel about her rescue.

The people mover shifted a few times, both up and down as well as sideways. The Lunar did not seem to be doing anything. Courtesan supposed she had set it when they had entered.

It stopped and the door opened. "Hold it," she said, looking at Courtesan.

Courtesan looked back. "What?"

"You are in no shape for this." She took a small knife from her belt and with a quick motion cut the skin between her wrist and elbow. "You need essence."

Courtesan leaned in towards the wound, the blood and the essence within. Her lips just touched the wound, the salty, coppery scent rich in her nose, when she pressed the blade of the knife against her neck. "Don't drink too much," she warned.

With a blade at her throat she put her lips around the wound and began to drink, feeling essence flow into her, feeling stronger for it. She wanted to drink so much, but she pulled her face away from the arm, wiped away at the blood around her lips. "Thank you."

The Lunar wiped at the blood on her arm, streaking it along her skin, the wound already closed. "Don't get used to the idea," she said, grabbed Courtesan around the wrist, and pulled her along.

They had not gone far before their way was blocked by several zombies; behind them stood a figure in black armour surrounded by the black flames of an Abyssal anima.

Even hidden as she was in the armour, Courtesan knew Faded Maiden of the Tomb.

"Damnable things." The Lunar released her hold on Courtesan and drew her daiklaive.

Across from them the Faded Maiden lifted her grimcleaver.

The two moved at each other, blades intersecting with a peel of steel on steel. The Faded Maiden leaned into her attack, trying to drive the daikliave down. The Lunar's body shifted, her form growing more muscular, and she lifted her blade, knocking the axe up high, sending the Faded Maiden back a few steps.

The zombies came at the Lunar, trying to grab her, to bite her. Sweeping her blade around her finished off a number of the dead, but slowed her, giving the Faded Maiden a moment to regain her footing. When she came at the Lunar again she did not attack with brute strength, but speed, her blade making fast, graceful sweeps, several of which contacted, leaving shallow gashes across the Lunar's skin.

She was forced to fall back as she blocked the axe blows, turning the blade, countering, her moonsilver daiklaive clanging against the armour as often as not. It was not slowing the Faded Maiden.

"Bugger this," she growled, as her form grew, scales flashing across her skin, fingers thickening, nails becoming claws. She was nearly three feet taller, and much heavier. It was the Lunar's warform, some strange amalgam of clawstrider and human. It was terrifying.

A heavily muscled arm lashed out with the daiklaive, scattering zombies and knocking the Faded Maiden into a wall. She grabbed Courtesan with the opposite clawed hand and charged forward, crushing the few zombies that tried to get in her way.

"Courtesan, you shall die, your ghost shall she stretched out before the Walker in Darkness and flayed for all its secrets!"

The shout had a force of will and essence behind it, bringing with it child winds that numbed Courtesan, leaving her frostbitten as if she had been out in a blizzard for days.

The Lunar picked up her pace, soon leaving the Faded Maiden behind, her voice fading.

She shifted back to her human form, pulling Courtesan along as she turned a corner into a long, straight corridor.

"Why didn't you kill her?" Courtesan asked. She was trembling from the cold that the Faded Maiden's attack had summoned.

"I didn't have time," she said as she held up her key box. Behind them a door closed off the corridor. "And she was more interested in killing you. Probably would have thrown her life away if she thought she could take you. I don't fight that kind of a crazy."

"What?"

"She wants you dead. Staying to fight was a stupid move."

For a moment she was too surprised to say anything. She could not quite understand the Faded Maiden being willing to die just to kill her. "The Walker in Darkness must have really worked her over."

Behind them they heard a sound, metal screeching on metal.

"She's going to cut her way through," she said, moving faster, pulling Courtesan roughly along.

The corridor exited into a large room, there were lockers there, and desks. "What is this?" Courtesan asked.

"Administrative section," she explained, releasing her hold on Courtesan as she turned her attention to the lockers.

Courtesan looked around, found a great deal of blood staining the floor. She supposed that the Faded Maiden had already passed through there.

She heard one of the lockers open, turned to find the Lunar holding out her soulsteel bow and a quiver of arrows. "Keep them in the main prison section. Don't let them get close."

Courtesan reached out and took the bow. It had been a long time since she had held it, but it was familiar to her, and as soon as she fed her essence into the weapon it was once more part of her. "What are you going to do?" She slung the quiver over her shoulder.

"Emergency protocol," she said brusquely, turning away from Courtesan.

Courtesan watched for a moment as she stopped before a closed door, using her key box to open it, stepping through.

She would have gone and looked in, but the screeching of the far off door being hacked through claimed her attention.

Drawing an arrow from the quiver she took a few steps, placing herself at the end of the corridor, looking down towards the far end. There were many rents in the door, it would not be long before it was breached.

She put the arrow to the string, drew back and released. The shaft zipped across the intervening space and slid through one of the rents.

Hard to say if she had hit anything, but the cutting stopped for a few seconds.

Then the door exploded forward, a number of zombies leading the way, the Faded Maiden in their wake.

Courtesan put several arrows down the hall in a matter of heartbeats, trying to hit the Faded Maiden, but with the zombies in the way she only managed glancing hits. Heavily armoured, the Faded Maiden continued moving forward, unhindered.

There as an alarm, but it was cut off in a moment, and she heard the Lunar yell something that might have been 'almost'.

Drawing on her dwindling essence Courtesan drew back, lined up her arrow, and released. On her forehead her caste mark bled down her face, as black flames danced around the head of the arrow. It punched straight through the head of one of the zombies, continued straight, and slammed in to the Faded Maiden's helm.

The wood of the shaft flexed, snapped, and the Faded Maiden stumbled backwards.

Courtesan knew she had missed the eye slot in the helm, even before the Faded Maiden straightened. However, she did not continue forward at such speed, and lifted her axe, holding it before her as if it were a shield.

Something banged loudly as metal rung out on metal, and the corridor moved.

The Lunar grabbed Courtesan from behind as the corridor fell away, and then spun, so fast that she only had a moment to see the Faded Maiden thrown up against the wall.

Then the huge form of the prison spun the corridor completely away, and she suddenly realized how huge her prison had been. Just as that was dawning on her the structure shot away from, moving faster and faster, dwindling in the distance. She could picture of the force of the acceleration tossing the Faded Maiden down the corridor and back into prison proper.

"What happened?"

"Emergency Protocol," she told her, slipping the quiver of arrows off of Courtesan's shoulder. "In case of mass prison break. It won't stop until it is several Way Points away."

"Way Points?" Courtesan looked at her.

"Hard to explain," the Lunar said, turning away and walking towards the exit. "It will be some time before she can catch up. She'll probably survive, unless something big decides to take interest in her."

Courtesan followed after her, looking at the bow that she had been left holding. The soul steel was solid, she might be able to hit her hard enough to knock her down, perhaps grab the quiver in the struggle. The bow string could even be used as a garrotte.

Their fight while falling from the Mask of Winters' citadel flashed through her mind. They had then fought pretty much to a draw, but the Lunar had enjoyed the support of that tiger and the child Solar. Now it would just be the two of them.

She had options. Not good ones. The Lunar's vast war form would likely render any attack she might make pointless. And Courtesan was almost depleted of essence.

And at the moment the Lunar seemed to be willing to protect Courtesan.

"What's your name?" She put the bow over her shoulder.

"You can call me Lightning," she said, not looking back.

A name that made sense, but probably not the one she had been born with.

Not that Courtesan was in the position to judge.

They exited to a small walkway that ended in a lift. Courtesan looked out a lawn, surrounded by a field of flowers.

"It looks beautiful," she said.

Lightning had stopped in the lift. She turned and offered her hand to Courtesan.

Courtesan, feeling a sudden tightness in her chest, reached out and took the offered hand.

Lightning clapped a manacle over Courtesan's wrist, turned her and locked her other hand in the matching manacle, securing both her hands behind her back.

Before she could say anything she felt a ball forced into her mouth, and then straps pulled tight around her head, gagging her.

As Lightning led her, tight hand on Courtesan's upper arm, Courtesan supposed it was sensible enough. She did bite after all.

* * *

The prison had come to a stop on a ridge made of porcelain plates and cups. Hundreds of thousands had been shattered by the impact, shards of sharp glass sliding down the ridge like water.

The Faded Maiden climbed from the corridor, looking out on an insane landscape of dinnerware. Below her at the base of the ridge a silver river of flatware flowed. There was, in the distance, a city, surrounded by a haze that made her suspect she would discover it made from tea pots.

She jumped down, glass crunching under her boots as she slid down the ridge.

"Courtesan," she hissed.

* * *

**Notes About the Exalted World**

The Topography of Creation and the Wyld

You can look at Creation as being a snow globe which floats within a sea of infinite possibility. The snow globe description is apt as Creation is a flat base covered by a dome of diamond to protect it from the Wyld. If is possible to leave Creation and enter the Wyld, but not advised. Close to the borders of Creation the Wyld has some pattern forced upon it, but the farther you go, the less the laws of Creation hold any sway. Eventually you would reach pure chaos, which is not an environment conducive to living. The Powerful Exalts and some gods can travel out into pure chaos, but not much else.

The Primordials who created Creation came from the Wyld. And there are other entities in that Chaos.

Music

White Lightning by Danny Michelle might describe how Lightning feels about Courtesan


	3. The Monk Who Smelt of Brass

**The Monk who smelt of Brass**

In the north of Creation the Travellers's Road was often cited as one of the great constructs on the region. A straight, granite road, 20 yards wide, stretching from Wallport to Whitewall. It was always warm, even in the coldest weather, and those who committed violence on it were compelled to hang themselves.

However, there were other great constructions, like the Jallian Fjord. The Fjord was a perfectly square cut channel, in the cliffs between Iceholme and Ironfall, over fifteen miles long. One hundred yards across, with a consistent water depth of fifty feet, it ran straight, but for a gentle bow in the middle that cut the northern winds that would have otherwise blown straight in.

At the far end was the town of Jallian. Ten thousand people worked the mines or the forests farther north from the city, or fished in the inner sea, or farmed lands warmed by hundreds of hot springs, or built boats and ships.

It was a Realm Tributary, but as it was not a place of great import to the Dynasts Jallian suffered from a benign neglect that suited the people fine.

It was governed by a headman called the Jall. The current Jall was a woman named Glinsa Ufi.

Glinsa Ufi and her town would have been of no interest to Heron except for the fact that the Ice Tree was only fifty miles south west of Jallian and it was the primary source of labour that Lightning and Sparrow had drawn on when they had first set up.

It was the Season of Descending Wood, soon the Season of Ascending Fire would start and even the North would be warmed. The fire that burnt in the hearth of the room was not really needed, but was peasant enough, for the sun was low on the horizon, but the room's large windows were open to the refreshing though cool breeze.

Heron stood near the hearth where the fire burnt, a glass of brandy in his hand. He had been shown to the room almost thirty minutes before, with assurances the Jall would see him soon.

On a table in front of a large settee were the remains of the meal he had been served. He had no real complaints about his treatment, it was all polite enough, and the food and drink had been quite good. He did not think that the Jall was playing games, at least not yet.

There was a sound from beyond the room, and a moment later the servant that had shown him in - a small, bespectacled man in long, grey robes - entered. "Rouva Jade Eyes," he said (Heron allowed the feminine title without comment), "The Jall, Rouva Ufi."

Announced, Glinsa entered the room. A woman of middle years, brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin, well dressed, average appearance; Heron might have thought her ultimately forgettable had he not known just what she was capable of. "Jall," Heron said, dipping his head politely. "Thank you for your hospitality." He lifted the glass, which might be taken as indication of the reception, or a toast.

The answering smile had a feigned warmth to it. "Thank you Rouva Jade Eyes."

"Please, call me Heron."

"Heron. Very pretty." She walked over to the settee and sat. "That will be all Olfan," she said to the servant, and then to Heron. "Please sit and we will talk."

"Thank you Jall," Heron said, and left the hearth to take a seat beside Glinsa.

"Well, what do you say we get right down to the business that brought you here. I understand that there are issues at the Ice Tree?"

Heron took another drink of his brandy then put the glass down on the table. "It seems some of the workers have heard disturbing things from their families. A suggestion that if they remain working at the Ice Tree their families might suffer from it."

Jall looked surprised. "I was not aware."

Heron nodded. "It is a recent thing. Apparently there is a criminal behind it, a man named Cammin, called the Edge by some."

She nodded. "I am aware of Cammin the Edge, a most unpleasant criminal. He does not cause any problems to Jallian, but he is a danger to the smaller villages farther out. An extortionist and bandit of the worst stripe."

"So I have heard. I have also heard unsettling rumours..."

Glinsa laughed. "The rumours that the Edge works for Jallian, keeping the villages tied to us through fear?"

Heron put on an embarrassed smile and nodded. "Just so."

"There will always be stories like that. I wish that I had the forces to put a stop to his actions, but the guard of Jallian does not have the manpower to police the lands beyond our borders effectively. All we can do is chase him off."

Heron picked up his glass. "Well, then this is good news."

"Good news?"

Heron looked at the window. "If you leave now, you can make it to the Hanging Tree while the sun is up."

"The Hanging Tree? I don't understand."

Heron smiled at her. "You will find Cammin and his men hanging from the tree, all dead of course. You should have your exorcist strengthen the salt wards around the tree, and perform the proper rituals."

Glinsa stared at him for a few seconds. She then jumped to her feet, her shins banging the table, and ran from the room.

Heron stood and went to pour himself a fresh glass of brandy. He took the time to look about the room. He picked up and examined over various bits of art work, from scrimshaw animal carvings to a piece of twisted moonsilver that had probably come from some much larger artifact. A shelf was full of books that looked, he thought as he flipped through one, like that had been read more than once. It spoke of someone who was well off, he thought, pouring himself more of the brandy, but not fabulously rich.

Someone who wanted people to know they were well off, but did not want to be gauche about it.

Glinsa came back into the room sometime later. She was panting, her clothing dishevelled, hair in disarray. Heron poured her a glass of whisky which he thought might be a better choice than brandy and handed it to her.

She looked at it for a moment, as if not certain what it was, or what to do with it. Then she lifted it to her lips and almost gulped it down.

"They're dead," she said. She held out her glass. Heron refilled it. She drank the second a little slower, and again said, "They are all dead. All of them."

Heron nodded. "I know. I killed them. All of them"

She shook her head, took a few stumbling steps to the settee and nearly fell onto it. "You couldn't. Cammin, he was a monster. He killed six men with his bare hands once."

Heron shook his head, smiling. "Hardly a monster. Skilled, yes, but ultimately a man. A man who died poorly." He paused and took a sip of his brandy. "A man who had things to say before he died. Things about you."

"Lies," Glinsa said weakly.

Heron took a seat next to her. "Hardly. Your actions offend me. I considered hanging you up on that tree with the rest."

Glinsa flinched as if hit. "I... I..."

"You what? Needed to keep the outlying villages in line, and a bandit group was useful in that? You wanted to make Cammin your tool, so you could keep him under control?"

"It wasn't like that."

"Of course it was. And it will not be again. There will be justice here from now on. Do you understand me?" He held her gaze, force of personality not letting her look away.

She nodded, swallowed, and said, "I understand."

"Then all that is left is for you to tell me why you did it."

"Why?"

"What the purpose of it. As far as I can tell you are benefitting from the activity at the Ice Tree."

"The monk told me it was not a good idea to help you," she said slowly, as if dragging each word up from a great depth.

"An immaculate?"

She shook her head. "No. He did not speak of the Dragons, or Anathema, but of the true gods."

Heron kept his eyes on her, reading the many little tells of her body language. He frowned. "This monk, does he have a name?"

"He said he was called Kenta."

"What did he look like?" Heron leaned in closer.

"Tall, well built, dark skin, red hair. He was a Dragon Blood."

Heron got to his feet. "We're done here. If you want to cut connections with the Ice Tree ask your people to come back, you may do so, but no threats. You would be wise to bet on the Ice Tree, but the choice is yours." He walked towards the door, pausing to put his glass down and look over his shoulder. "I don't want to come back here."

Then he left, putting Glinsa from his mind.

Outside Dragon waited, and walked towards Heron as he exited the building. Grasping the saddle-horn he pulled himself up into the saddle. "Let's go," he said.

Dragon moved through the darkening town at a quick pace, hooves ringing on the cobblestone streets, threading his way through the people heading home.

Ahead of him, at the main gate, people where gathered near the hanging tree, with is strange fruits of death. A woman in a white robe was chanting and walking the perimeter of salt around the tree. Heron paused on the edge of the town to take it in, then gently flicked the reigns. Dragon took off at a trot, soon lengthening to a run that made the ground fly by.

A blooded monk, tall, red hair, but not an immaculate. One who spoke of true gods. There were some possibilities, but the one that worried him most was that it might mean the Yozis. And if the Yozis were taking an interest in the Ice Tree he would have to know.

There were villages in the area, and he made one before the sun was fully set. People who lived in such places were wise to be wary of the dangers of the night and would not welcome a stranger who arrived in the dead of the evening.

They might not welcome one who arrived with the setting sun, but Heron was more than charming enough to put the gate watchmen at ease.

The village was named Gutter, and the single inn and tavern shared the same name. Heron tied Dragon loosely up in front of the inn and then went in. It was a crowded, and smokey, filled with tired people, mostly miners, who were, at best, wary of strangers.

It took Heron about five minutes to win them all over.

Sitting at the bar, drinking on other people's coin, he searched out sign of Yozi influence. His primary concern was demon cults close to the Ice Tree. It would take time to stomp them out, and would certainly cost them the goodwill of people in the area.

By the time the last of the revellers were stumbling out of the inn Heron was fairly certain that there were no demon cults in Gutter. He would need to visit the other villages and towns, but he had picked Gutter at random, so that it was clean was a good sign.

He stepped out of the inn, wondering if he would take a room or head out into the night. Dragon stood where he had left him, standing sleepily near a trough of water. He came fully awake as Heron approached, and pushed at Heron with his nose. Heron reached up and rubbed his fingers behind Dragon's ears.

For a time he was pleased enough to spend a few quiet minutes with his horse, but when Dragon snorted out a concerned breath and grew more watchful Heron turned and looked in the way the horse was looking.

From a dark alleyway came a figure, a familiar woman in a blue kimono. Heron reached back and grasped a double-barrelled flame wand, swinging it out and pointing it as the new comer. Torchlight caused the orichalcium barrels the glow.

"What are you doing here Dreaming Blue?" Heron asked.

The Sidereal stopped and inclined her head politely. "And pleased am I to see you Heron Jade Eyes, Verity Jinx, Blossom or Chalim Ofons, whoever you are at the moment."

"Not impressed, now why are you here?"

"I am here to help you."

"To help me?"

"Do you really wish to speak of this, out here?"

Heron looked around, supposing that no one was listening, but she had a point. Putting the flame wand over his shoulder he started off, Dragon as his side. He heard Dreaming Blue following after him, thought she might have tripped once.

There was an area, near the palisade, an open area, likely used as a market. No one could come too close. "How do you think you can help me," he asked, turning, swinging his weapon so it once more pointed at Dreaming Blue.

"This dragon blood you seek, he is..."

"Akuma, yes, I already surmised."

Dreaming Blue frowned, the shadows on her face shifting as if living things in the far off torch light. "Do you know where he is?"

Heron lowered his weapon. "Not at the moment."

"I will take you too him."

"And you benefit from this how, other than dealing with an Akuma."

"Isn't that enough?" she stepped closer, smiling.

"Not for a Sidereal."

"Fair enough." She sighed, and smoothed down the front of her kimono with a series of nervous hand movements. "The god of children has asked that Ivory Peleps enjoy the protection of Sidereals. I am that protection."

"That sounds fairly ridiculous."

Dreaming Blue laughed softly. "Oh, it is indeed ridiculous, but the god Lady Aisha Hikari Ex is in favour of many powerful gods, and what she asks for, she gets."

"And the reason you are not at the Ice Tree?"

"The Twilight is safe enough where she is for the moment."

"And she would probably sick her tiger on you?"

"Well there is that," Dreaming Blue said with a dismissive shift of her head. "I am sure I could convince her to accept my presence, but it would be easier with your assistance. The girl will do whatever you tell her to do in a desperate attempt to get your approval."

Heron, who suspected that Dreaming Blue was right, said, "Don't dismiss Ivory, it would be something of a mistake."

"Oh, I don't take her lightly, but I can recall being a young girl and desperately in love with an older person. If you ask, she will do."

"I don't trust you."

"That is wise," she said with a nod of her head. "I have also been placed here by Chejop Kejak to be your advisor, to keep you out of trouble, or more to the point, to keep Creation safe from you. Secretly I have been sent to find evidence that will allow him to act against you, legally."

"You are not helping your case."

"I am telling you this so you know that I will be watching you. However, I will not falsify evidence, or create it, and I will give you the benefit of the doubt, but you need to bring me into your circle."

"We are not enemies of Creation. Watch all you want from the outside, you will find nothing."

"Be careful what you say Heron Jade Eyes, you and yours are not so innocent."

Heron shifted his flame piece, as if he was ready to bring it up.

"However, I do no believe that you are enemies of Creation. You have put down the Mask of Winters, something that my fellowship failed to do. I can be useful to you."

"I do not trust you or your fellowship."

"I will lead you to the Akuma, I will help you deal with him. Perhaps that might go some distance to earning your trust?"

Heron did not answer her immediately, but after a moment he returned the flame wand to the sheath on Dragon's saddle. "We'll see I suppose. Let's go and find this Akuma."

* * *

It was not close, the place that Dreaming Blue directed him to, but with Dragon's charm enhanced speed it did not take long to arrive. Dreaming Blue had ridden behind him, clinging tightly the whole way.

She slipped off of Dragon's back while Heron remained in the saddle, looking down into the small valley. An airboat was tethered to a large table, and on the ground around it was a neat camp of several tents and a large fire pit.

"This is it?"

"It is," Dreaming Blue said, taking a few steps closer to the edge of the valley. "The Akuma is good at hiding his trail, but not that good."

Heron climbed down from Dragon's back, and pulled the double barrelled flame wand from its sheath. "Very well." He started towards a path that led down into the valley.

"You are just going to walk in there?" Dreaming Blue asked, following after him.

"That is what I intend."

"You're confident."

"No, I just don't trust you completely."

She said nothing to that.

They were nearly at the foot of the trail when a watchman, a heavily built man who looked at if he had some blood ape in his ancestry, saw them. He shouted out an alarm as he grabbed up a long spear.

The camp woke, the people around the fire pit getting to their feet and taking up arms.

"Who are you?" the Sentry demanded, the spear held out in front of him defensively. Near the fire a tall, thin figure had readied a bow, while the others were running towards the sentry, swords and other weapons drawn.

"I want to speak with the monk," Heron said, flame wand pointed at the ground.

"Speak to me," the sentry growled.

Three others, two men and a women, all with an alien quality that suggested demon blood, had joined the sentry. From the tents came more people, in various states of dress and readiness. Heron counted twenty.

From the central tent came the man Heron had sought. Tall, red haired, wearing robes similar in cut to those that the immaculate order wore, but black with brass and purple highlights. "Hold," he called out. "I wish to meet with our late night guests."

The sentry and the others around him looked back at the monk, but after a moment stepped aside. They did not lower their weapons however.

Unconcerned Heron walked forward, past the armed men and women, towards the monk who now stood near the fire pit. Dreaming Blue followed behind him, a few steps between them.

"Who are you?" Heron asked as he stopped about ten paces from the fire pit.

"I am Sessus Kenta."

Heron looked about for a moment then said, "No longer really a Sessus now though."

Kenta laughed. "True enough. I count the servants of the true god as my family."

"If they were true gods they would not have been defeated and locked away in hell," Heron said.

"You should be careful what you say Heron Jade Eyes," Kenta said, taking a step forward.

Heron smiled. "Thank you. I believe that you have told me everything I need."

The way the shadows fell on Kenta's face changed as he scowled. "Kill them," he ordered.

"Take care of this and I will tell Ivory to put up with you," Heron said to Dreaming Blue.

"Oh you son of a..." The rest of her words were lost as she turned to face the big sentry who was charging them, spear thrust in front of him.

She lifted her foot in a crescent kick, brining it down on the spear head, driving it into the ground, the big man coming to a sudden stop. With a light step, lacking any of her prior clumsiness, she walked along the shaft so she might kick the man in the jaw, foot slamming into chin, head snapping back with a crack.

Vaulting over collapsing body she landed between two of the others. The long, flowing sleeve of her kimono wrapped around the forehead of one, and with an elegant shift of her hips she snapped his neck, and turned him so his corpse blocked a sword strike from another.

Heron was watching Dreaming Blue fight, but he was not unaware of what was happening around him. The archer had lifted her bow and fired at him. With a deceptively careless move he used the barrels of his flame wand to knock the arrow aside, sending it off to embed itself in the throat of another enemy.

The archer was reaching for a new arrow when a sword appeared to suddenly sprout in her chest. Dreaming Blue, who had thrown it, pushed a dead body (the sword's previous owner) down into the path of other attackers, tripping them up. The sleeves of her kimonos were like living things as she used them, trapping opponents' weapons and limbs within the silken embrace for the moment she needed to kill them.

Heron was not the only one watching the fighting and not getting involved. Kenta also watched, looking between Heron and Dreaming Blue, waiting.

A few times Heron had to step aside, avoiding an attack and sending the attacker towards Dreaming Blue. She was, he decided, amazing. It was not that he could not have killed all the people there himself, but he could not have done it with such grace. Effective as they were, flame weapons were messy.

Having retrieved the sentry's spear, she used it like a staff, spinning it about as she turned, blocking attacks, and then countering with lethal intent.

With a last spear thrust a small, hairy man died, the spear buried in his guts.

"You are a bastard," she said to Heron. Her hair had come out of its neat style, hanging in disarray around her face, and she was covered with blood spatter. The neat bow of her obi was skewed, and the left side of her kimono and under kimono pulled to the side, showing a swell of breast.

Heron smiled at her. "I've been called worst." His attention returned to Kenta. "Any point to all this?"

"The Yozi can be excellent allies Heron Jade Eyes. As can you be to them. Can you really trust the Sidereal?"

Heron shook his head and raised his double barrelled flame wand, pointing it at the monk.

Kenta laughed. "I am a fire aspect. I have little to fear from flame weapons."

Heron pulled both triggers.

From the barrels erupted a cloud of white fire, within the blast a flaming tiger leapt, crashing down on Kenta.

Obscured by flames Heron could not see him, but heard his short lived screams.

A moment later the flames dissipated, the tiger of plasma remaining for a moment before it winked out.

What was left behind was a badly burnt corpse that looked as if it had been savaged.

Dreaming Blue stepped up and looked down at the body. She looked at Heron. "You pointed that thing at me," she said, accusation in her tone.

"Ivory made it," Heron told her, snapping the barrel open, ejecting a pair of red jade shell casings, covered in orichalcium filigree. As they sailed through the air it was as if the air whistling through the open ends was a soft prayer, and when they hit the ground, the metal ringing out was a like an affirmation of belief. "She called it a tiger gun."

Dreaming Blue looked from corpse to Heron and back again. "She's dangerous."

"Only to people who she does not like," Heron reached into his pocket and brought forth two new shells.

"Do you really believe that?"

Heron slotted the two shells into the weapon and snapped it closed. "I trust her far more than I trust you."

"Not really answering my question."

Heron smiled, turned and walked further into the camp, taking some time to check the tents, to make sure they were empty. "This all rings false," he said.

Dreaming Blue had knelt by Kenta's corpse. She looked up from the body. "It all does seem to be off."

"Bluffing with no cards in front of you," he said.

She stood, looked about. "What was the point of it?"

Heron swung his weapon around so it was pointing at the airship. "That."

"The airship?"

"If it had been Ivory or Sparrow Hawk who had come to deal with this issue, they would have taken that ship."

"So everyone we killed was just a blind?"

"To sweeten the pot. To have that sitting in the middle of our holding."

"Cold blooded, as you would expect of the Yozi." She walked up to stand beside him. "What are you going to do?"

Heron, weapon still extended, pull the triggers. The flames and the tiger of plasma flowed from the barrels, washing towards the air ship. Splashing across the hull the flames ignited the wood, rapidly climbed the rope, and then set the airbag aflame.

Something screamed.

Heron put the tiger gun aside, summoning his plasma tongue repeaters. "Let us see what the Yozis had hidden."

Dreaming Blue's daiklaive was in her hands.

There was a sound of creaking and snapping wood, of tearing cloth, and the entire ship bucked and turned as the fire claimed more and more of the structure. Then, with a screech of metal, it humped up, like a whale breaching, and snapped in two.

Like some strange creature emerging from a sea of fire a giant stood from the burning wreckage. No, Heron thought, not raising from, for the wreckage was actually part of it.

It stood nearly fifty feet tall, the keel making up its spine, metal and the wood from the ships frame its skeleton. From it back, like a cape, the ripped and burning air bag hung.

Huge hands beat out flames, with a sound like a ship crashing into ice.

"What is that?" Dreaming Blue asked, staring up.

"Demon, construct, behemoth, maybe some strange mix of all three."

Most of the fires out the giant turned its gaze, twin orbs lit by a red glow, towards them.

"How are we going to kill it?"

"That is an excellent question."

With a creaking scream of wood scraping against wood the giant stumbled towards them with an awkward gait, and seemed almost to fall forward as it brought a huge hand down as if to crush them.

Heron jumped to the side, rolled on his shoulder, and came up, a few steps away from where the hand struck. He had not seen how Dreaming Blue had avoided the attack, but the SIdereal stood unharmed, a few steps from the hand.

In a few steps Heron was upon the hand and starting up the arm. "High ground," he shouted, trusting that Dreaming Blue would either follow, or would pursue a strategy that she thought better. The sound of foot falls behind him suggested the former.

Pistols held ahead of him he fired, concentrating the bursts of plasma on the elbow section of the arm. The mix of metal with the strange wood the ship was constructed of made him doubtful that he might do serious damage to the limb (which was fortunate as he was currently climbing it) but his plan was that he might fuse the metal of the joint, reducing the creature's range of movement.

The heat from the glowing metal burned his feet through his shoes as he passed the elbow, and fused or not, the creature did not bend the arm, but it was lifting it at the shoulder.

"Take the head," he called back to Dreaming Blue, and then, midway up the forearm, he leapt from arm to the chest. Wood and steel formed a rib cage of sorts, but with no covering Heron slipped within the ship. Feet jammed against a rib to hold himself up, he reloaded both his pistols in only seconds, at the same time looking about the interior cavity.

Lots of things that might be organ analogues, but for all he knew it was just cargo that hung in the space. No obviously pumping heart, or the bellow like actions of lungs to give him a target. He put one of his pistols between his teeth, the metal warm in his mouth, his now free hand grabbing a handhold of a wooden rib.

He bent his knees, pulled himself close against the wood and steel, and then, with a flare of essence, launched himself out into the space within.

Caste mark glowing on his head, grabbing the pistol from between his teeth, spinning as he flew, Heron started firing. Arms spread wide, he used the recoil from the plasma to speed up his spin as well as propel his leap. Three times he reloaded in the air, and when he finally lighted upon one of the ribs on the opposite side he had started Heron was surrounded by a bonfire of sunlight. He lit the creature from within, making it glow like the sunrise.

He heard a scream from above, the same screech of wood on wood from earlier, but midway through the pitch changed as the volume was choked off.

After dismissing his pistols he Slipped through the ribs and exited the creature. Leaping from rib to rib he rapidly began to climb. The arm he had fused was swinging around wildly, but the other arm came around, slamming into its chest, about ten feet below where Heron climbed. He nearly lost his hold, and slid a few feet down the side.

He resumed his climb, interrupted several times as the creature tried, furtively, to beat out the fire within it.

When he pulled himself up onto the shoulders he saw Dreaming Blue, slashing and hacking at the head, even as she tried to avoid the snapping of vast wood and steel jaws. One of the glowing eyes had been put out, and as Heron watched he saw her slice one of the jagged, wooden teeth from the steel lined jaw.

He summoned the pistols back into his hands as he dashed across the shoulder, shifting his balance to maintain a straight run across the heaving surface.

Crossing behind Dreaming Blue he fired around her, right into the open mouth.

Flames exploded within, and then, as it screamed, flames erupted from it, as it vomitied an inferno.

Both Heron and Dreaming Blue had to retreat from the head to avoid the flames.

"You are not helping!" she said from where she clung on the shoulder blade of the giant, her daiklaive driven point first into the wood of the shoulder to give her a solid hold. Once neat and styled hair was now a tangled mess, and her kimono was torn in several places.

"Sorry, who would have thought."

Above him the fused arm came swinging up and down. It might not be able to bend its elbow, but it could slam its upper arm into the side of its head and the shoulder.

Heron was forced off the shoulder ridge, dropping down onto its back, giving up his pistols as he did so. He saw Dreaming Blue yank her weapon from the wood and stumble run across the shoulder to once more resume her assault on the head.

He drew his beamklaive, igniting the essence blade. Using the weapon he slashed deep gouges into the back of the monster, using them as footholds to climb his way back up. When he had positioned himself directly behind its head Heron steadied himself with his feet and used both hands to drive the sunlight blade through the back of the neck.

Whether it was that attack, or Dreaming Blue's actions, or even the fires he had left behind in its chest, the creature let out a cry and began to stumble forward.

"I think we had better get off," Dreaming Blue said, leaning around the head, offering a hand to Heron.

Heron grabbed it, let her pull him up onto the shoulder. Most of the head's jaw had been sliced away, and both eyes were put out. The lurching stride of the thing made it hard to maintain his balance.

"When it hits the edge of the valley it is going to go down hard," Dreaming Blue told him.

"Best we get off then," Heron said, looking about. The arm he had fused was hanging motionless from the creature's shoulder. "That way," he said, crossing the uncertain footing of the shoulder until his stood at the base of the arm. He reached out towards Dreaming Blue. "Hold on,"

She took his arm.

Heron jumped, pulling her off with him. He drove his beamklaive into the arm, the blade cutting a long slash down the appendage, slowing the fall. He almost lost his hold when then reached the elbow, the fused metal was harder for the blade to cut through, the sudden braking effect almost pulled his arm from the shoulder socket, and almost caused the blade to turn free of the metal.

Then they were past it, sliding the rest of the way down, to the hand.

Dreaming Blue caught hold of the fingers, stopping herself, and then Heron, catching and holding him before he might fall.

"As soon as it hits," she called.

"Agreed," Heron answered.

It was not long after that the lower legs ploughed into the rim of the valley, snapping and breaking, causing the huge form to pitch forward. The arm was trailing low to the valley walls when the Solar and the Sidereal leapt and ran from it.

The creatures weight drove it forward and down, the legs shattering with the stress. The chest area crashed into rock, and weakened by fire, broke and snapped. The heavy thing was crushed under its own weight, once it had lost much of its structural integrity.

From a safe perch Heron and Dreaming Blue watched it collapse and burn.

"I can see why you would be wary of bringing such a thing into your strong hold," she said to Heron.

"It certainly could have been a problem," he agreed. "I am certain Ivory would have made a mess destroying it."

Dreaming Blue leaned back against a boulder and laughed without humour. "So between the two you think Ivory is the most destructive."

Heron frowned. "Don't try to put words into my mouth."

She shook her head. "Perish the thought. Do you think there are more of those things in Malfeas?"

"Possibly." He extinguished his sword. "A problem to deal with when it arises."

"That easy?"

"Pardon."

"You say it like it will be easy."

"I never said easy, but the two of us handled that thing pretty well," Heron told her. "If more come, the Exalts will destroy them." He paused for a moment and turned his gaze on her. "Assuming we can work together."

She had the decency to at least pretend some embarrassment and looked away first.

Heron took a few steps onto a higher rock and looked at the rocky wall of the valley. "We can make our way up," he said, pointing at a rough path. "We will check to make sure that thing is truly destroyed and then I have things to do."

"What? Will you return to your stronghold?"

"Not yet. There is a unpleasant man with a great deal of money I need to visit."

"To make sure he is an unpleasant man with a great deal less of money."

Heron started up the path, looked back at Dreaming Blue and smiled. "Something like that. If you want to come with me I will need you to take on a role, if you think you can do it."

Dreaming Blue laughed, a true laugh. "There is much you have yet to learn Solar."

* * *

**Replies to Reviews**

N3phtys - I will make the change to the chapter enumeration you requested for this story and keep it in mind for the future.

As for Lightning and Courtesan, I suppose we will see.

Thanks for taking the time to write

* * *

**Music Suggestions**

Short Skirt / Long Jacket Cake - Dreaming Blue


	4. Salvaging the First Age

Salvaging the First Age

He could not be more than sixteen, even asleep he had that awkwardness about him. The helmet, too big for him, was canted forward over his eyes. The spear was clutched loosely to chest, held up in the crook of his arm. Carefully Sparrow reached out and shifted the weapon, so it would not fall, then she stepped around the napping 'watchman' and into the storehouse.

Likely they never knew what they really had, she thought, moving things on shelves so she could see the metal wall behind. And even if they once had, probably it had been forgotten over the centuries. It was just a strange building with tilted floors that the people had repurposed to something useful to their time.

She checked the hatches, the ones that had been closed since, well, who knew how long, found them locked. That was good. That suggested no one had been in any place important.

Leaving the storehouse and its napping guardian behind she walked along the well travelled path towards the village. It was fairly large, more of a small town, a number of large buildings along the main street. People noted her, for it was not so large that strangers would go unnoticed, but they were more curious than alarmed.

At the end of the street was a temple, a large building, exterior decorations suggesting it was dedicated to the Five Dragons, but Sparrow had seen such places before. Likely inside one could find a way to offer prayers to any god.

She was not interested in the temple, but a building beside it. Not quite as large as the temple, but the stone construction and tiled roof suggested that as much money had gone into the construction of village hall as the temple.

A sentry, not asleep, moved in front of the doors as she approached. "Do you have business here lass?"

Stopping a few steps away from the man she answered, "I wish to speak to the headman, or woman." She hoped the village was not run by a council, that would make her work that much more difficult.

He looked at her for a moment. "You will have to talk to the clerk to see if you can talk to the headwoman. And hand over your sword before you go in."

She nodded and released her sword belt, holding it, the sheathed sword, towards the guard.

He took the weapon from her. "You can retrieve it on your way out."

"Thanks."

Inside the building showed the same care and detail of construction as the exterior. The foyer stretched up above her, skylights letting in the sun. It took her twenty paces to cross the polished stone floor, to stand in-front of the imposing desk where a man, she assumed the clerk, sat.

He was in his middle years, well dressed, bald, with a neatly trimmed beard. He had watched her approached and asked in a friendly tone, "Welcome. Can I help you today?"

"Yes. I wish to speak to your headwoman." Sparrow worked some essence into her words, using charms that Heron had taught her, wanting to quickly get what she wanted.

For a moment the man looked confused, but after a moment he answered, "Why, what is your business with her?"

"It is for her and the town's benefit." A little more essence was woven into her words.

"Well, let me show you to her office then." He was smiling broadly, apparently not considering the oddity of Sparrow's request.

"Thank you."

He took her up the stairs to the second floor, then down a short hallway to a thick, oak door. He knocked at it and then pushed it open.

The office behind it was large, carpet on the floor, a desk, even more impressive than the one below, took up most of the room. The woman seated behind looked to be tall, and solid, but it was hard to tell when she was sitting. Her long hair was nearly steel grey, and her face was marked with fine wrinkles. She looked up from the ledger she was working on when the door opened, eyes narrowing.

"What is it Clain?"

"You have a visitor, it is important."

"I was not aware of any appointments today," she said, the tone of her voice cool.

Sparrow crossed the room, took a pouch from her jacket, and then placed it on the desk. The contents made a metal on metal ringing sound. "I am sure you can make some time for me." She pulled the string that held the pouch closed so it opened up, revealing the jade and silver within. Currency had a magic of its own.

"Thank you Clain, you may go now."

"Yes ma'am."

The door closed behind her.

The headwoman looked at the money pouch for a moment, then back to Sparrow. "Please sit," she paused, "Miss?"

"Sparrow Hawk," Sparrow said as she took a seat, "no Miss." She was impressed that the woman had not yet reached for the fortune on her desk.

"Sparrow Hawk." She nodded. "I am Headwoman Quinn. Forgive me for ignoring pleasantries, but just what is this money for?"

"There is a storehouse just outside of the town, metal walls, mostly underground."

"Yes."

"I want to buy it. Just the structure. You can keep the contents, though I will have to ask that they all be moved out."

Quinn said nothing, her gaze resting on the pile of jade that sat between them. "A generous offer."

"I believe so," Sparrow said as she once more wove essence into her words. "The jade on your desk would build and stock at least six storehouses of equal size."

Quinn looked at it, nodded. "That is true."

"So what I am offering is more than fair."

"Yes," she said, falling into the spell of Sparrow's words.

"Do we have an agreement?"

Quinn nodded, and got to her feet, confirming Sparrow's earlier estimation of her size. She held out her hand. Sparrow got to her feet, looking up at Quinn, and took her hand. "The deal is done," Quinn said, giving Sparrow's hand a quick shake.

"I'll need everything moved out of the storehouse in the next two hours."

"Of course," Quinn said. She scooped the jade and silver all back into the pouch and tied it shut again. Holding it tightly she started from her office.

Smiling, Sparrow followed after her.

* * *

Headwoman Quinn had a lot of respect in the town. There were questions, but she put them off, telling any who asked that it was for the town's benefit. Her words seemed to put people at ease.

Within the two hours that Sparrow had requested a large number of men and woman had loaded up carts, and had transferred everything from the storehouse to the village hall.

When the last of the items were pulled from the structure Quinn looked at Sparrow. "So what are you going to do with it?"

"It is a little complicated to explain," Sparrow told her as she took a silver case from her jacket. It was about the size of her hand, thick as two fingers. "If you can ask everyone to move about a hundred feet back you will see."

"Everyone, back off towards the trees," Quinn called.

As the people moved back Sparrow opened the case, the two halves folding open along a hinge. Within were several glass tubes, each about the size of a cigarette. She took one out, both end were capped in white jade, and a single wire of orichalcium want from end to end along the glass.

Sparrow dropped the tube to the ground and then crushed it under her foot. The glass broke with a musical sound.

For a few seconds nothing happened, then the ground beneath sparrow shifted, humped up, like a wave flowing away form her. A few feet in front of her the ground humped up again, growing taller, earth and grass sloughing off stone like water. A human like figure slid from the earth, easily three times Sparrow height. From the distance shouts of alarm came from the watchers, and Sparrow heard the sounds of some running away.

The earth elemental looked around, the boulder like head making a grinding sound as it moved. Then it turned an eyeless gaze onto Sparrow. "What would you have me do?" the elemental asked.

"There is a vehicle buried here. Unearth it, and then I need a deep basement built, about twice your height in depth, lined and buttressed with stone, with a set of wide stairs."

"You ask for much."

"Would you speak with the Golden Eyed sorceress about my request?"

The elemental was silent for several heartbeats. "I shall do as you ask," it said.

It slid back into the earth and the ground stilled for a time, long enough for some of those gathered about to take a few steps closer, curiosity winning out when danger seemed to have passed.

Then the store house shook, and the ground around it rippled. There was at least one cry of fear, and again the sound of people running.

Sparrow watched as large rocks were pushed up from the ground, boulders that had likely kept anyone from trying to excavate the storehouse. She wondered how they had come there, and knew she would probably never know. The rocks were pushed off to the side, and then the ground humped up as dirt shook free of a piece of metal that erupted from the ground. The rest of the airship's hull followed; one of the wings sliding out of the ground; a smashed engine, possibly the cause of the its crash long ago, coming into view.

The hull shifted to the side as the elemental brought it to the level before sliding it free of the hole. The ground rippled under the airship as it was moved away from the hole it had lain in, and it was set down carefully.

It was a large craft, easily three times the size of her Razor, with stubby wings that were mostly large engine. A cargo ship, perhaps fast in straight lines, but not something designed for agility.

Other than the damage to the port engine the aircraft was in amazingly good shape. Centuries buried in the earth had not been enough to corrode the metal of the craft, or even damage the red paint that covered it. She hoped that Ivory might make repairs to it, for a heavy cargo hauler would be useful.

"You knew that was there," Quinn said, her tone raised and her anger obvious. She stood close, was breathing hard.

Sparrow had expected the woman to say something like that, but had assumed the earth elemental, currently shaping the basement she had asked for, would make Quinn keep her distance.

Not so it seemed.

"I did," she said told her, turning away from the ship to face the head woman. "However you did not, and the deal we made was good for you."

"That thing is worth a fortune."

"It is," Sparrow nodded. "Valuable enough that someone might burn down your entire town to take it."

Quinn took a step back.

"There are people in Creation who would take this from you and give you nothing but ashes. For you it was a curious building that you made use of. Its current value is only because of my knowledge and the elemental I called." Sparrow took a step closer to Quinn, was not particularly happy to see her take two frightened steps back. "Don't focus on the loss of a might have been, but instead what you are getting, and not losing."

Quinn looked between Sparrow and the airship. Sparrow guessed her thoughts were to attack once the elemental had left, to take the airship. But of course her next thoughts would be what to do with it, who they might sell it to that would not simply take it. A narrowing of her eyes, perhaps she was thinking that she might force Sparrow to pay more for it were Sparrow a prisoner.

Deciding to make a point Sparrow removed the silver case from her jacket again, opened it, removed a glass tube capped in red jade.

Quinn looked at the tube, at Sparrow, at the airship. She frowned, then spat onto the ground, drew the toe of her shoe across the ground and spittle. "Never come to my town again."

With that the head woman turned and stomped away.

It would have been a more impressive action if not for the jingling sound of the jade Sparrow had given her.

Satisfied that Quinn, unhappy as she might be, was not going to cause any problems, Sparrow walked over the edge of the hole the elemental was digging. It had almost finished, and was working on the stairs.

A few people had moved closer, the braver stepping close to the edge to look down.

"You should probably get this covered up before someone falls in," Sparrow called out.

Below the elemental finished up the work, the stone flowing like mud in its hands, but once shaped, as solid as any other rock. It moved to the middle of the basement, looked about, then slid down through the rock of the floor, disappearing. A moment later it surfaced through the ground close to where Sparrow stood.

"Are you satisfied?" it asked her.

"The work is excellent, thank you. Your service is complete," Sparrow said politely.

The elemental said nothing, just slid down through into the earth, gone as suddenly as it appeared.

From the silver case she took one, then a second glass vial, both of these capped in blue jade. She was going to need at least two air elementals to lift the craft and move it back to the tree.

* * *

Once it has been a mighty airship, with a keel over a hundred feet long. The ancient crash had snapped the ship in two, tearing it apart, leaving the wreckage scattered over a vast ice field.

It likely would have been picked even cleaner than it had been, if not for the Wyld mutants who claimed the land and the wreckage as their own. They were in the shape of wolves, shoulders that would come up as high as a man's chest. White, jagged fur that looked like ice, but was in fact metal, as were the teeth in their muzzles.

The beast were intelligent as well, they claimed the area, hunted it, laid in wait for the scavengers who might come there. Deadly ambush hunters who hid their numbers and actually moved the wreckage into troves near the centre of their range so as to better lure meals close.

Sparrow had seen them at a distance once before, flying the area at the border of their hunting range. Now she had to opportunity to see them up close, and they were terrifying as they were beautiful.

One of the three she was fighting jumped at her. Sparrow lifted her leg, drove her foot out, catching it hard in the shoulder, knocking it off corse. The metal of its fur pierced the leather of her boot, but failed to damage her skin.

Turning, she brought her daiklaive up, thrusting it out, hand on hilt and another across the blade, driving it into the mouth of another of the wolves. Her case mark flared and with a twist of the blade, using it like a lever, she flipped the wolf over onto its back.

The third came in low, trying to snap at her ankles, but she slashed down with her sword, turning the blade and bashing it on the nose. With a yipe of pain it jumped back.

She could likely kill them if she wanted to, but she really did not want to. It would take a lot of time to properly salvage the area, and until it was all clear, she did not want anyone else coming in and taking the materials. Therefore the wolves had to stay.

A growling sound was her only warning that more of the wolves had come and then there were four more of the beasts attacking her.

Her sword swept around and across the shoulder of one, orichalcium blade and steel fur chiming like musical notes. Another of the wolves leapt at her, up high and descending rapidly. She reversed her sword, drove the point into the ground, grasped the quillons and leaned back. The wolf came down hard on the pommel and fell twisting to the ground, the air driven from its lungs.

With a step and a pull she yanked the sword from the hard ground: it had been driven nearly a handspan deeper by the impact. Still holding it by the quillons Sparrow spun the sword around her, driving the wolves back a few steps as her hands shifted about t0 grasp it about the hilt again.

She ended the maneuver with point of sword taking the eye from the largest wolf. A dangerous wound for a predator, one that might lead to it starving to death. Of the seven wolves, only one had not been injured, and that one did not seem as if it would test her.

The wolf that had fallen at her feet after its unsuccessful leap was slowing getting to its feet, panting in a pained manner. Sparrow kicked it hard in the side, knocking it over. "Get out of here!" she yelled.

The wolves fled, as best as they were able.

She waited a time, then laid her sword aside, took a seat on a rock, and searched the pockets of her tattered buff jacket for her cigarettes. The fur of the beasts certainly had made a mess of her clothing she noted, pulling at the shredded leather that had once been a sleeve.

"Be a cold night if I were to stay out here," she said to herself as she lit a cigarette. She had been there long enough to smoke about half when, with a clicking sound of gears, a clockwork bird landed near her. It hopped over to her, each hop accompanied by a soft twang of springs. When it stood neat her hand it spread its wings, its breast splitting open to reveal a writing set and a rolled piece of paper.

Sparrow took the paper out, read the message, then retrieved the writing kit and used it compose a reply. Note and kit went back into the bird. It folded its wings to its sides, its chest closing up. It took a few hops back, then jumped into the air and flew off.

She watched it fly off over the ground, back towards where her people were working a salvage heap. She stood, dropped her cigarette to the ground and crushed it out. Time for her to be getting back.

Sparrow had not been walking long when she heard the howl go up. It sounded close, and was soon joined by others. She looked about the area around her, decided it would suit her needs, and drew her sword. Her caste mark still glowed, but when the first wolf stepped over a raise the mark lit up and golden flames began to dance around her.

More wolves joined that one, a few were the ones she had fought earlier, but most of them were fresh. She counted ten as they move around to surround her, keeping their distance, but not closing.

"Don't think distance will protect you," she said. Stepping forward Sparrow slashed down with her blade. Light from her anima gathered along the edge and then launched out as if Sparrow had hurled her blade. The gleaming arc of energy hit the largest of the wolves before it even knew it was danger. It cried out in pain and fell to the ground. Sparrow did not know if it would survive, and at the moment was not concerned. If she had to kill a few to teach them to leave her alone, so be it.

Turning in place she met the gaze of the surrounding wolves. All of them backed a few steps away.

"I think we have an understanding," she said.

The wolves retreated a few more steps.

There was a deeper growling sound, it seemed to echo in the area. The wolves withdrew further as an even larger specimen stepped around a large rock formation. It was as tall as a man at the shoulder, long, bulky, its metal fur sticking out like knives. It kept its head low, fangs bared, as it stalked towards Sparrow.

"Leader of the wolves," Sparrow said, looking between the alpha and the others. She would have to finish it quickly.

Walking towards the big wolf, sword held out to the side, she matched its stance and pace as best she could. The big wolf seemed to hesitate. Sparrow charged it, her anima burning even brighter.

The wolf gathered its legs beneath it and it pushed off, like a bolt from a crossbow, flying right at her. Sparrow lifted her sword, hand on hilt, other laid against blade, and drove it up agains the beast, muscles, strengthened by essence, drove the wolf up and then with a twist, to her side and down.

It hit the ground hard, on its back, but flipped over, snarling crouched low.

Sparrow hit it hard, using sword as a lever to flip it over onto its back again. She went with it, landing on top of it, its sharp fur cutting her. Swinging her sword around she placed the flat against the wolf's throat and pushed down on it.

The wolf went crazy as it tried to flip her off, to get free. She felt the fur cut at her, and the claws on its right forepaw caught her across the chin, cutting deeply.

Snarling Sparrow pushed even harder on the blade, and the struggles grew weaker as she stole its air. She watched eyes grow wide and frightened as it realized it was about to die.

Sparrow smiled, her blood dripping down onto the terrified beast.

She liked the feeling far too much.

Then she rolled off the animal, heard it draw in a gasping, painful breath. She put her foot down on its throat, not so hard as to cut off its breathing, but the threat was there. Looking down she and the wolf came to an agreement.

When she took her foot off it remained on its back for several seconds, then, once Sparrow nodded, it rolled over onto its belly and crawled back, eyes not leaving hers.

"Keep my pack safe," she told it, "and don't touch any prey that has my scent on it."

The wolf remained on the ground, but she saw understanding in its eyes.

Sparrow turned her back on it and walked away, not worried about it for the moment. Perhaps later it might try to challenge her again, but for the moment it was submissive to her.

The other wolves stepped out of her way, respectfully, fearfully. She ignored them.

None followed.

* * *

A piece of the wreck's keel, a section nearly twenty feet long, had been cut free. It was covered in cargo webbing, long straps connecting it to the Blade's hull. Sparrow was satisfied with the quality of the work after walking the length of the metal, making sure everything had been made fast.

Her wounds had stopped bleeding, but her clothing was still a mess, and covered in drying blood. The crew looked nervous, clustering close to the Blade, looking around as if expecting whatever Sparrow had fought with to come charging in.

After giving one last pull at a cargo strap she turned towards the crew. "Alright, get on board, we are leaving.

The relief was nearly palpable as the men quickly climbed into the Blade.

"Are you alright Captain?" Berlan asked her. He was a young man, skinny, short, he had short, spiky black hair, skin the colour of polished oak. The mechanical bird perched on his shoulder.

"I am well Mr. Berlan, but thank you for asking."

He looked towards the Blade. "Sorry about that Captain, they were all pretty scared."

Sparrow smiled. "I suppose that is so. Any problems other than nerves?" She started walking towards the Blade, following one of the cargo straps.

"Pin nearly cut off Windon's hand when they were working at the keel. Windon's got a bad burn, but think he'll be okay."

"Tell Bosun Jinn when you get back to the Blue Sky Lover. Can't have Pin being stupid, even if he is afraid."

"Yes Captain."

* * *

An hour later the Blade had lowered its payload of feather steel onto the deck of the Blue Sky Lover, Berlan and the rest of the crew transferring to the other ship. Sparrow ordered them back to the Ice Tree while she took the Blade further north.

* * *

If she was not on the border marches then she was close to them. The ice and snow were twisted with the Wyld energies, and had been sculpted into the form of a forest, and while none of the creatures of ice lived, Sparrow was certain some of them moved from time to time.

Not at all a safe place she supposed, and likely when the moon was full the Wyld spilled forth into the forest and provided the alchemy of life, for a time. It was the place hobgobblins might prowl, and where the Fair Folk might hunt. She was not afraid, but wary, ready. It was why she walked and had not simply flown the Blade in.

Her thick boots crunched down on delicate ice, and her fur cloak was covered in a fine rime of frost. She might have been cold, but the clasp of her cloak was an artifact in the form of a stylized flame made of gold with a core of orichalcium. Infusing it with a tiny portion of her essence kept her warm and removed the icy bite of the wind. It was just one of the many items that had been discovered during the search and cleansing of the Ice Tree.

The ground rose, and the grade became steeper. She freed a pair of ice axes from where they had been bundled on her pack and used them to help in the assent.

The summit of the hill was a wide ridge above a jagged valley of ice. She walked to the edge and looked down, searching for what she had some to see. The floor of the valley was covered in the forest of ice and snow as well, and from high above Sparrow marvelled at how transparent they were.

Below the ice, a dark shape, was what had brought Sparrow there, and when she saw it she laughed. It was huge, taking up nearly the entire length of the valley. So large she had nearly missed for its size.

Sparrow took off her gloves and reached into her jacket, removing a sheet of paper. It was covered in a messy writing, with surprisingly detailed sketches in the margins. Wyld Fire Interdiction class Strike Cruiser, standard operating force, one thousand ground troops, one royal warstrider fang, one standard warstrider fang. The craft below her did not even have a name, just a number, Solar Deliberative SC 27.

"How many of the things did they have that they could not properly name them? How many that they could simply store them in case they were needed?"

The information on the paper, data that Ivory had recovered from the Ice Tree's libraries, had seemed impressive enough, but now seeing it, even just a blurry image through a sheet of ice, tens of feet thick, amazed her.

She folded the paper up, put it back in her jacket. How was she going to salvage something like that? She would have to secure the area, she would need a small army for that, and then the recovery process would take even more people. She supposed Ivory might supply elementals to break the ice. But had the hull even held up to the centuries upon centuries of time and the weight of the ice. Would they clear it to only find wreckage (valuable wreckage certainly)? Was it even possible they would find an extant ship?

Sparrow wanted that ship, she wanted SDSC27. If the numbers Ivory had given her were correct it would one of the more powerful aircraft in their age. It would give her the ability to project force far and wide, securing the Ice Tree from the majority of threats. And when they abandoned the Ice tree for the fleet of the air, it would be a flagship.

Not today, however, she thought as she pulled her gloves back on. It would take months of planning before she could return, and more recourses than she currently commanded.

That was something she would need to work on.

She turned her back on the valley and the treasure it held, satisfied that ice and distance and the Wyld would protect the ship as it always had. It would wait.


	5. Girls and their Dolls

Girls and their Dolls

* * *

The Ice Tree was nearly two thousand feet tall, with spars extending straight out from the central shaft, like the branches of a tree. At the end of each spar was a cradle, some sized that they might have held a small, single person aircraft; others were large enough that that might hold a much larger ship, and were supported by multiple spars.

Several of the cradles were occupied, air boats of Halsanti design, three of the large, class 1 boats only days away from completion. There were also ships from the first age resting in some of those cradles, most simply wrecks to be broken down for parts, but a few nearly extant and being repaired.

Along the central shaft, at different places, where half hemispheres, like soap bubbles. They were for observation, providing a place to over see the work on the ships. In an observation deck about three quarters up the shaft Ivory was meeting with the heads of the construction teams.

Her hair had been returned to its red colour, thought it was still short, and she wore it pulled into little girl bunches on either side of her head. She wore a white, fur trimmed coat, a pale band of pink around the hem. Thick, white wool stockings were itchy, but kept her warm as the observation deck was open to the outside. She was, from the white ribbons in her hair to the polished, patent leather ankle boots, the picture of a proper little girl.

Darken Gray worked hard to make it so.

Ivory looked at the notes and diagrams on the large central table, shifting onto her toes to snag one of the larger diagrams and pull it towards her.

"Why didn't you use the bracing I told you to?" she asked.

The yard's manager, a man named Tar, shook his head, while the other men and women there looked less than respectful. They knew she was a genius, that she could fix anything, and yet they still saw her as, well, a child.

"Those braces were not as strong as the standard ones. They looked pretty, I'll admit, but were weak."

Looked pretty, Ivory thought. Did they actually think that she had chosen a design because it was pretty? She was about to tell them exactly what they could do with their standard braces when she heard it. Not a word of warning, or a cough as if clearing a throat, but shoe leather, gently scraping against the floor.

Enough of a sound to remind her that it was not just her and the construction heads. She did not look towards Darken Gray, her governess, but kept her eyes on the diagram as she took a moment to calm herself.

Still angry, still annoyed, but not showing it, she moved along the table, until she found a blank sheet of paper. The construction heads watched her with what Ivory thought of as somewhat strained patience, and that made her feel even more annoyed.

Grabbing a brush and some ink she looked up at Tar. "This," she said, and the brush swept across the page, leaving behind neat and elegant writing in its wake, "is a prayer to Vanileth, Shogun of Artificial Flight." She punctuated a phrase with more force than required, a messy bit of writing that she knew she would hear about later. She continued to write. "A prayer that was sung daily in Vanileth's temple in the City of Meru."

She put the brush aside and spun the page around so that the men and women could see the Old Realm characters on the page, thought most would not be able to read them. Still, they gathered closer, obviously curious.

"It is an important prayer," she told them, then reached for the digram she had drawn of the brace. "Do you notice that the," she resisted saying pretty, "design shares a similar look to the first characters in the prayer?"

They looked at it, and Tar was the first to say. "I'll be damned."

"The wind passing through that brace, while the ship is in flight, is a prayer to Vanileth."

She could see that they all began to realize what that meant, they began to nod amongst themselves.

"The over all effect is that the brace is twenty percent stronger than the standard ones."

"So why not use that for all the braces?" a woman named Peela asked.

"It is only stronger when the airship is in motion. So 1 in 4 is the best."

Tar looked over the diagrams. "Too late to go back and change it now, but going forward we'll do so." He looked at Ivory. "You could have told us this sooner."

I will kill him, Ivory thought, but she only nodded. "I will make sure to do so next time."

"Excuse me Mr. Tar," Darken Gray said, stepping forward, "I hate to interrupt you, but Ivory's schedule is busy."

"Of course Miss Gray," he said, in tones more respectful than those which he had addressed Ivory.

"Thank you." She held a hand out to Ivory. "Come along Ivory," she said.

Ivory looked over the work on the table, decided that things were progressing well enough, and there was nothing more for her to say. She took the hand and let Darken Gray lead her from the room.

"I am going to summon demons to kill them all," she said softly.

"Yes, you could," Darken Gray said, "but then I would have to write your mother a rather long letter about your murderous behaviour, and of course punish you."

Ivory said nothing for a few seconds. "Why should I have to 'splain anything to them? They should just do what I say."

"You are still a young girl Ivory. That is something time will take care of, you can be certain."

That, Ivory thought, was surprisingly painful. She would have thought it would have grown less so, but each time she heard someone say that, well, it still hurt. She could almost think that Darken Gray was aware of it.

"It will take forever if I have to keep tellin' them why I want them to do somethin'."

"Hardly forever, please watch the hyperbole, it is not proper. And you shall rewrite that prayer this evening twenty times, and I want each one to be perfect. You shall present them as wall scrolls to Mr. Tar and the rest. Make sure you punctuate it properly."

"I knew you were going to say that."

"Then you should have known better than to let anger spoil your writing." She stopped in front of a set of lift doors, let go of Ivory's hand and pressed the call button. "Do you wish to spend the next hour in your workshop or shall you have a riding lesson?"

"I'll go to my workshop, thank you," Ivory said.

"Very well, then I will want a full report on your work on the construct. Afterwards will be deportment lessons."

"Yes Miss Gray," Ivory said.

The lift doors opened. There were several workers within. They were polite to Darken Gray, friendly towards Ivory, like she was a mascot. Quite annoying really, but an angry outburst would only make her look even more the child.

She had so much preferred it when it had only been her, Heron and Hu.

Darken Gray left her alone in her work shop. Ivory took off her coat, hung it on a small stand by the door. Under the coat she wore a white, one piece dress that fell to her knees. Like the coat there was a pale band of pink around the hem.

Pink, Darken Gray told her, was a pastel shade of red, the colour of war, and therefore a suitable accent colour.

Those were among the many things that her Governess saw fit that she learn,

But now, by herself, in her workroom, she cold focus on what she wanted to learn.

"Hu," she greeted the tiger, who appeared as he often did from apparently nowhere, "will you eat Darken Gray for me? Pleeeease?"

"No," the tiger said, good-naturedly enough.

"But don't you think she looks tasty?" Ivory asked as she climbed up on a step stool and reached up on a shelf for a battered set of ledgers. They overbalanced her slightly and she would have fallen back, had Hu not butted her in the small of her back with his head.

"I prefer ruminants to gods," the tiger told her.

"Have you ever eaten a god?" Ivory jumped down from the stool, her arms full of the dusty ledgers.

"Not that I would comment on."

"I wonder what gods taste like?" Ivory mused as she put the ledgers on a work table, sized lower for her. "Would the god of candy taste better than the god of cabbage?"

"That is not a line of inquiry you will want to follow if you ever want to be invited to dine with a god."

"Fair point," Ivory said, and began looking through the books.

The ledgers were old, going to dust, what little paper remained intact had faded, almost invisible ink on it. Ivory reached for stacks of paper and ink. Her caste mark glowed on her forehead as she repaired the damage, in minutes each of the ledgers was like new, white paper, dark, unfaded ink.

With them repaired she began to look through them, reading quickly, looking for information that Sparrow might use. The Ice Tree had been a central maintenance hub for the region in the first age, and often in the records she would find entries about wrecks that needed to be recovered, or ships being returned to holding sites. Unfortunately the ledgers she had put to rights held no such information and she pushed them aside after a time.

She leaned back in the chair, looking back at Hu. "I wanna go and do something. I wanna leave this place."

"Who is holding you here?" the Tiger asked.

"My mother mostly, but you'd think that Heron or Sparrow could take me with them."

Hu did not give her an answer.

Ivory sighed loudly and slipped from her chair. With an exaggerated motion she stomped to where the construct lay on another workbench. She had repaired the damage that the Mask of Winters had caused, as well as the damage that releasing the gates had caused. She had even made some improvements, but it still would not activate. It annoyed Ivory almost as much as the fact that Darken Gray had told her once she fixed it that the construct must be returned to Lookshy.

She climbed onto another footstool and as she looked down at the armiger. She gasped softly, for within the chest chamber was a mouse. The mouse looked up at her, squeaked, then jumped out of the armiger, off the table, and ran off to disappear behind some crates.

"What is it?" Hu asked.

"A mouse," Ivory told him. "It was inside the construct, chewing on things probably."

Not that a mouse could damage it even from the inside. Then she saw what she thought were scratches on the heart core, as she had taken to thinking of it. She reached down, brushed at them, realized it was just a little dirt, probably left behind by the mouse's claws.

It almost looked as if it had been trying to scratch one of octagonal plugs that covered the core. She ran a finger over the smooth metal, marvelling at he seam between plug and rest of the core. So close was it that it was almost as if it did not exist.

Maybe the mouse had had the right idea. The thought made her laugh, but she reached for her tools, searched out her eye glass, fitted it over her right eye. As the clockworks spun, bringing lenses around, she sought out another tool, a small bonder.

With the glass giving her the enhanced perception she needed Ivory used the bonder to create a join between one of the hexagonal plugs and a piece of orichalcium wire.

"What are you doing?" Hu asked her.

Ivory took the glass away from her eye, looked at the work. "I think that the core shut down, to keep it from overloadin'. The plugs are control rods. If I draw one out, the essence reaction might begin. It might also blow up, but probably not."

"Probably not?"

"Probably not."

Hu took a few steps back.

She climbed up onto the table, wrapped the wire around a steel rod and then, straddling the construct, began to pull up on the plug. It slid out of the core, slowly, Ivory gently working it free. The plug was perhaps the thickness of one or two coins out of the core when all the plugs snapped out the same distance with a soft 'click'.

The construct opened it eyes.

"Oh," it said.

Then all the plugs slid back into the core, so each was barely raised from the surface.

"You're working," Ivory said happily.

It looked up at her. "The Mask of Winters was defeated?"

Ivory nodded, smiling.

"This is uncomfortable. Can you please close my chest."

"Yes, sure," Ivory told her. "Let me remove the wire first," she told the construct as she grabbed the tools. "And gotta smooth the bonding agent away too."

It took Ivory about a minute to clean up and then close up the armoured chest plates. "I made some 'provements," she said quickly as she locked the armour into place. She slid off the table. "Stand up."

The construct shifted about smoothly on the table, swinging off of it onto the floor. She stood still for a moment, then nodded. "All systems currently optimal or better."

Ivory nodded. "I know. It took my a while, I had to try a few things, cause it's not as if I had a manual to work with." She looked around the room, then over a Hu for a moment.

She looked back to the construct. "Listen," she said softly, "Darken Gray wants me to give you back, but that's stupid. I'm the one you got to be with. So when Darken Gray comes you got to tell her you want to stay with me."

The construct looked at Ivory. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Just tell her you want to stay with me," Ivory said again. "Wait here." She ran from the room to search out Darken Gray. Her next lesson was deportment, so Darken Gray should be in the room that had been set aside for those lessons.

The room was a level above, and on the other side of the Tree from where Ivory had started. She was breathing a little heavily when she reached it, having sprinted all the way.

"Miss Gray," she said loudly, opening the door.

Darken Gray was standing in front of a crystal writing slate, having covered it in neat, first realm characters. "Ivory, do not yell inside like that." She turned. "And why do you look like you ran here?"

"I need you to see it. The construct. I fixed it. Come on." Ivory came into the room, grasped Darken Gray's hand, began to pull on it. "Come on."

She looked down at Ivory, frowned, but allowed herself to be dragged along after the girl, looking somewhat displeased.

They were going too slow, Ivory wanted to show off her work, have the construct tell Darken Gray that it wanted to stay with Ivory.

Darken Gray would not be hurried however, and forced Ivory to walk at a sedate pace with a warning of, "In an emergency you might be allowed to rush, but otherwise present a facade of calm and control. It does not do to let people see you scurrying about."

Ivory shook her head at that, still trying to hurry the goddess.

Finally they reached the workshop. Ivory was relived to see the construct still standing there. "It is working, better than before."

Darken Gray looked the construct over. "I see that. You did very good work. Now, you..."

"The construct has something it wants to tell you!" Ivory was almost jumping up and down. "Tell her," she said, looking over at the Construct.

The construct looked towards Ivory, and then to Darken Gray.

"What is this about?" Darken Gray asked.

"I wish to stay with Ivory Peleps," the construct said. "However, if I am to truly express my desire I would wish to return to Lookshy..."

"What, no!" Ivory said.

"...and to Maheka Yoti's service."

"No!" Ivory said, stamping a foot.

"Ivory, we agreed that the construct would be returned to Lookshy."

Ivory looked between the construct and Darken Gray, angry at both. "No!"

"Ivory, this behaviour is inappropriate," Darken Gray told her, her tone hard. "The construct will be returned."

"No!" Ivory said. "You are not leaving," she ordered the construct as she dashed from the room.

"Ivory," Darken Gray called after her, but Ivory did not stop.

Down the hall she ran, until she reached the elevator. She hit the call button, tapping in a quick call pattern. A moment later the doors opened and Ivory jumped in, not wanting Darken Gray to catch up to her. She locked the elevator to her priority use and sent it descending.

She took several deep breaths. "I'm not giving it up," she said.

It took almost a minute for the elevator to reach the lowest levels, the doors opening on the stone caverns of the Ice Tree's foundation. They were dark and cold, but dry, and she shivered as she walked along the corridor, wishing she had thought to grab her coat.

There were two manses that powered the Ice Tree, one, an air manse, high atop the structure, and a second, an earth manse. Ivory had repaired them both soon after arriving; a job much easier than keeping the manse under Lookshy from destroying the city.

The earth manse was a fortress, and when Ivory sealed the doors she was certain she would be left alone. She made her way to the hearthstone room, which was warm, and lit by soft light. She sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.

She heard the sound of soft pads on the floor and was not surprised. Even a fortress manse would have a hard time keeping Hu out.

The tiger slipped from the shadows and took a seat next to Ivory.

"I'm not giving it back," she said, not that she expected Hu would tell her otherwise. She leaned up against him.

He surprised her by saying, "You are being stupid."

Ivory did not say anything for several seconds, not sure she had heard him right. "What?"

"Being stupid is the only sin that a Twilight cannot be forgiven for, and you are being stupid."

"I'm not!" She pounded one of her small fists against Hu's side. "You're wrong."

"You are being stupid," he said, apparently not feeling the strike, or the ones that followed. "You are pointlessly antagonistic towards Darken Gray for a construct, one which you could build yourself if you chose."

Ivory stopped hitting Hu, thinking about what he had said. "I could, but, fat head Maheka Yoti does not deserve it and..."

"But what is really stupid is that you are undercutting the work of you allies," he said, interrupting her.

"What?"

"I should not have to tell you this," he said, sounding disappointed.

"Tell me what?" she demanded, and said nothing else, surprised by how whiny her voice sounded.

"You seek allies, and Lookshy might be a powerful one," he told her, his tone lecturing. "Right now those who do not wish to ally with you can bring up your theft. It is one more weapon you give an enemy that is not lacking in them."

Ivory shook her head.

"Returning it, you take that weapon from them, and allow Lookshy to claim part in the Mask of Winter's destruction. A claim that benefits them, but you and the others as well." He stood, turned, looked at her. "You are not quite as brilliant as you think Ivory Peleps."

Then he walked by her, slipping into the shadows, leaving her.

Ivory stared into the space that tiger had occupied. She gently bit at her lower lip for several seconds, then sniffed, wiped her hand across her eyes, and got to her feet.

She retraced her steps, walking slowly, but reaching the elevator faster than she wanted. She pressed the call button, not using the quick call pattern, but the elevator must have been waiting there for the doors opened immediately.

The ascent took a little longer than the descent, the doors opening a few times as workers got on and off between the floors. Ivory stepped out, close to her work room, and dragged her feet listlessly as she approached.

The Construct waited where it had been ordered to.

There was no sign of Darken Gray.

She did not speak to the construct, just walked to one of the worktables and gathered up some paper and ink. She took a brush, dipped it into the ink and then began to write. She used a charm that Darken Gray had insisted she learn, and while her brush moved quickly over the page, her writing was neat, as if she had spent time getting each character perfect.

She still spent several minutes on the letter, even with her brush moving so fast. She had been told that her writing should be perfect, a work of art that anyone might keep. She still had a long way to go before anyone would keep her writing as art, but she looked at the letter she was pleased enough with it.

No one would be able to fault her calligraphy.

The letter was, as much as it galled her, a letter of apology for taking the construct, while explaining her reasons. She made sure to highlight the constructs part in the ending of the Mask of Winters.

Leaving the ink on the letter to dry she looked through the notes she had, taking out several pages and, with only a moment's work, put them together into a book. She folder the letter up, put it between the pages of the newly bound book, and then fashioned a leather satchel in which to put them.

Her cask mark was glittering.

"Here," she said, holding the satchel out to the construct. "This is a letter to Maheka Yoti, and a manual on how you might be repaired, if anything were to happen."

The construct reached out and took it. "You wish me to return to Maheka Yoti?"

Ivory was silent for a few seconds, and, almost as if the words had to be dragged from her, said, "Yes. Go back to him. You can release all the jade limiters, and any one of the starmetal ones on your way back, but then you have to seal them again!"

The construct nodded. "I understand."

"If I need you," she said, then paused, "and if Yoti says you can go, release all the jade and starmetal limiters to reach my side."

"I understand."

Ivory nodded. "Take the elevator down to the atrium. You can exit the Ice Tree from there." She grabbed a map from a table and held it out. "You can get back on your own."

The construct took the map. "Yes." She turned and walked to the door, leaving the room, not looking back.

Ivory almost yelled, 'I am going to build a construct better than you', but held her tongue.

She turned and took a seat at her worktable, shaking her head, angry but unable to do anything about it.

"That was, while a little late," Darken Gray said from behind her, "neatly done."

Ivory turned towards her governess. "Thank you," she said, her voice level.

"I do not think I will mention this lapse to your mother."

Ivory felt her cheeks grow warm, and said again, "Thank you," with a bit more sincerity in it.

"We will skip your deportment lesson for the day," Darken Gray told her. "Go to your room," she picked up Ivory's jacket and held it towards her, "clean up, change, and your dance lesson will be at its usual time."

Ivory got up from the table, walked over to Darken Gray. She let the woman help her into the coat. "I am gonna build my own construct," she said to Darken Gray.

"As one would expect from a Twilight," Darken Gray said.

Ivory was not sure if she was being teased, but nodded, and left the workroom.

"We will talk about your punishment tonight before you go to bed," Darken Gray said from behind her.

"I understand," Ivory said, careful not to sigh.


	6. Prisoners and Untrusted Allies

**Prisoners and Untrusted Allies**

* * *

Clarissa had been a little surprised when Lightning had arrived, with a bound, blindfolded and gagged Death Knight. It was not the fact that the Abyssal had been restrained in such a manner, she had seen such things before, but the slightly panicked look to Lightning's actions.

It had been enough that she had not immediately started her teasing word play with the Lunar.

She had ordered something for them to drink, and in a room with large windows, with a fire burning in the hearth, she had listened to Lightning's story.

By the time Lightning had finished her tale Clarissa could see that Lightning had calmed some. Getting to her feet Clarissa walked over to the windows, looking out at the icy harbour of Windcreche. The house was up high, where the cold winds could get at it, but kept away the scents of the rendering plants. She looked over her shoulder. "What do you want to do now Daddy?"

Lightning looked as if she was about the protest the title, but instead she said, "I don't know."

Clarissa nodded, then looked back out the window, watching an ice boat that sailed across the frozen harbour below. "Shall we find another place to hold her?" She turned from the window and looked at the bound Courtesan.

Lightning shook her head. "I won't ask the Silver Pact to sacrifice any more people, or lose any more facilities. Not for this."

"Then what do you want to do Daddy?"

"Someone is hunting her. This time it was a single assassin, it could be an army next time. I don't think I have much time anymore. I'll need to talk to Heron and the others, see what they think. They deserve to know."

Clarissa walked over to the couch where Lightning had deposited Courtesan. "If you don't want to carry her all the way, I can arrange transport. Official is fastest at the moment, but we'd need to explain her. I suppose we could pass her off as a pleasure slave. You have her nearly trussed up like one Daddy."

"She bites," Lightning said.

"All the good ones do."

* * *

Courtesan sat on the cot in the small, windowless room. It had been some hours since Lightning and the woman who called Lightning 'Daddy' had spoken. Courtesan had been carried to the room, most of her bonds released, but for a manacle around her ankle that kept her on a length of chain.

She had been able to wash up, and change into a clean set of clothes, her funeral cloak worn over those. She lifted her leg, looked at the manacle. It was well made, though were her essence reserves not so depleted she might easily open it. Even with only her own skills she might remove it, with some time, but she did not think to try.

She was certain that Faded Maiden was following the Walker in Darkness' orders, and she did not know how many of his other Death Knights might be after her as well. At the moment, Lightning was her best hope. The Lunar wanted to keep her alive, thought Courtesan knew there were times that the woman did want to end her. However, so far, she had kept control or herself.

And Courtesan had done nothing to test that control.

She lay back on the cot, pulling her cape around herself, for the room was a little cool. She had returned to Creation, but the whispers were soft, nearly absent, in her mind. Had her true masters lost interest in her? Or was it that she was depleted of essence, somewhat cut off from her powers, that silenced them? She hoped it might be the former, for she did not relish the idea of the whispers returning to full force as soon as she was once more filled with the dark essence of the underworld.

She heard the locking bolt slide and then the door open, recognized Lightning from the uncomfortable connection they shared. She looked up from where she lay on the bed.

Lightning watched her, stared at her with a gaze that made Courtesan wish she was blindfolded.

"There are places, deep in the Wyld, where I could put you, places you would never leave, places where no one else would ever, could ever come. Do you believe me?"

Courtesan nodded. She had to swallow before she could say, "I believe you." She pulled her cape tighter around herself.

"That's good. I don't know what the voices in your head tell you, but remember what I said if you ever think of causing harm to those I consider friends."

"I won't, won't cause them any harm," she said quickly.

The Lunar crossed the small room in two long strides, stood standing over Courtesan. "If I even think that you will be a problem, you get tossed into some oubliette far out in the Wyld and I walk away." She leaned down and put a hand around Courtesan's throat. "We do have an understanding don't we?"

Courtesan's heart was beating hard in her ears, with the fear and the hard hand at her throat, and Lightning's eyes, with silvery light dancing in their depths.

"If you act accordingly I will do my best to find a way to deal with this problem that we both will find acceptable."

Courtesan nodded.

Lightning released her.

"I will continue to keep you bound when we travel."

Courtesan nodded. "I understand."

"How are you?" Lightning asked.

The question surprised Courtesan for its banality, for being so out of place.

"No injuries? Nothing you need?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"There is a graveyard in the city, in a few hours I will take you there, for a short time."

"Why?"

"You're useless without essence. I've guaranteed your safety. I might need you able to protect yourself."

The word useless were painful to hear. That Lightning might need her made her heart speed up again.

"You know that you will not easily flee me, even with essence?"

"I know."

Lightning said nothing else, left the room, locked the door.

Courtesan shifted on the cot, took a deep breath.

The Lunar terrified her.

Of course, she had to admit, most things ultimately terrified her.

* * *

Lightning clenched her fists as she walked away from the cell where she had left Courtesan. The Death Knight tested her control, for she still wanted to kill it. It did not matter how much she knew that was the wrong choice, in her gut she knew that Courtesan should not be.

With some distance she was able to relax slightly, letting her fists open, watching the cuts in her palms close and heal.

She took a handkerchief from her jacket, wiped the blood away, and went to find Clarissa.

Clarissa was in her office, paperwork spread about her desk. She looked up when Lightning entered. "Have a nice talk with your pet Daddy."

"Not my pet."

"Not really your prisoner either."

"She understands the situation. Get us the fastest transport you can."

"I will do so. You might want to be careful about telling anyone your ultimate destination Daddy."

"Why?"

"It seems your friends are beginning to attract more attention. The Halsanti League is not sure about what to think about your shipyards."

Lightning thought about it for a moment. "Production has picked up."

"Very much so, and there are some first age ships coming together."

"All we need is our flying island," Lightning said, smiling.

"If you bring a flying island there, is it almost certain you'll end up at war with the Halsanti league. I do not think they would take it well."

"Is that a fact or just your opinion?"

Clarissa lifted her shoulders and made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

"What's the Silver Pact think?"

"In so much as I can speak for the Silver Pact, they are likely to take a 'wait and see' approach. For a while at least. If your experiment goes forward and maintains momentum, they will likely want to see you succeed."

"Business as usual."

"Of course Daddy."

Lightning took a seat across from Clarissa. "I need something drink."

Clarissa looked surprised for a moment, her eyebrows raising as her eyes widened. She opened a drawer of her desk, there was sound of her rummaging around, then she produced a bottle of dark liquid and a pair of tumblers.

Lightning took the bottle, pulled the cork out, then filled one of the tumblers near to the rim. "You?"

"Two fingers," she said, looking pointedly at the glass that Lightning had filled.

Lighting filled the second glass to a height of two fingers, then put the bottle aside and reached for her full glass. "I am having problems," she said, then drank half her glass contents.

Clarissa picked up her drink and sipped at it. "How so Daddy?"

"I want to hurt that woman. Not just kill her. Hurt her."

Clarissa put her glass down. "Do you think she wants to be hurt?"

"What?"

"Maybe you are just picking up on what she wants?"

Lightning shook her head, took a smaller drink from her glass. "No, she's not in it for pain. I'd say she is frightened of it." Lightning said nothing for a few seconds. "I'd say she's afraid of most things."

"Lunars and their mates have a strong bond," Clarissa said.

"She's not... Well, in a way, but not like she is."

"I think Daddy, since you can't love her in the way you might chose, you are doing what you can."

"Pardon?"

"And there is also the whole dominance thing of your animal side."

Lightning was about to protest, but she took a few minutes, slowing sipping at her drink until the glass was empty.

"You might be right," she said after a moment. "But I have no desire to make her the bottom to my top."

"I think you might not have a choice."

Lightning leaned back in the chair. "Luna curse it, you might be right." She closed her eyes.

"If it helps you resist your urge to kill her, and it keeps her submissive to you, is that really a bad thing?"

"I honestly don't know," Lightning said. "Did your real father ever have problems like this?"

"Oh Daddy, do you think previous Daddy would talk to me about his perverted sexual tastes?" Her tone was light, teasing.

Lightning laughed as she sat straight and opened her eyes. "True enough. How soon until we can leave?"

"Eight, maybe nine hours."

She got to her feet. "Then let's get to it. I've been going around in circles, refusing to make a decisions for too long. I'm going forward and I will survive the fallout, no matter what."

"As expected Daddy."

* * *

Kihoshi leaned forward, his mechanical arm on the work table. Ivory sat across from him, magnifying lens over her right eye, tools in her hands, working on the arm.

Hu sat near by, watching Kihoshi, as if to remind the Dragon Blood that he had taken his arm off before and that he might do it again.

"The barbarians like the weapons and armour you are sending them," Kihoshi said. "Better quality than they have ever had."

"That's good," Ivory said, doing something with a probe that caused the mechanical fingers to close into a fist. "Are you training them to use them well?"

"Of course I am."

"It's just that I don't think you are much of a commander, and I think Heron gave you the wrong busy work."

Kihoshi laughed. "You have quite the tongue on your young Peleps. You are going to rip your lovers' hearts to shreds when you get older."

Ivory paused in her work. Put the tools aside and touched her glass so the magnifying lenses whirred away from her eye. She looked at him. "And why couldn't I rip hearts to shreds now?"

"Oh, I am sure you could find those who would lust for you, but you'd find their hearts not worth shredding," he told her, smiling. "I've never cared too much for those whose preference ran to children."

Ivory wished she had not started the conversation, but for a moment she had hoped for something. A look, or something from the man that might suggest he found her desirable, or at least considered her worthy of even a momentary lustful thought.

Stupid of her.

"Yeah, I guess." She snapped the lenses back in place and returned to her work on the arm, asking more questions about the barbarians and their training to fill the silence. Finally she said, "I'm finished." She took the glass from her eye and snapped the access panels on the arm shut. "Give it a try."

He shifted away from the table, flexed his fingers, snapped his arm back and forth a few times, then, after a moment, caused a set of moonsilver talons to slide out from the fingers.

"Very nice." The talons snapped in and out several times. "Feels good. Smooth action. Will provide a nice surprise."

"Good," Ivory told him as she packed up her tools.

Kiyoshi smiled. "So, aren't you a little worried that with all these improvements you have made that I might be dangerous to you?"

Ivory looked at him. "That's okay. If you think of betraying Heron that arm will tear your throat out."

His expression went flat for a moment, then he laughed. "That's a good one little Peleps."

"I'm not joking," Ivory told him as she got to her feet. "Just one thought and," she mimed tearing her own throat.

Kiyoushi looked down at the artificial arm. "That's not funny."

Ivory smiled sweetly at him and then left the room, Hu following at her feet.

"That's not funny!" he called out after her.

"You could actually make that happen," Hu said to her.

"I know, but Heron would get mad at me if I did. And Kihoshi is too scared of Heron to try anything."

"Kihoshi-san," Darken Gray said as she came up from behind Ivory, surprising her. "Though Cathak Kihoshi-san would be more proper."

Ivory did not say anything to that, but she was not about to start being that respectful to Kihoshi. That was something that she and Darken Gray could disagree on, and as long as she did not tell Darken Gray that everything would be fine.

Her governess regarded Ivory for a few seconds as they walked, then said, "Captain Sparrow Hawk sent word, she should be back in a few hours."

"Sparrow is coming back?"

Darken Gray frowned.

"I mean Sparrow-san."

"Yes, she is. We will shift your lessons around so that you might speak to her when she returns. She will of course have questions for you."

"I just wanna, want to, go up and wait for her at the landin' pad."

Darken Gray looked down at her, her face a mask. "I suppose we will get nothing accomplished anyway. Very well, but dress warm, and behave."

"Yes, I will!" Ivory said as she ran off towards her room.

"And don't run," Darken Gray called after her.

* * *

Sparrow circled the Ice Tree several times before bringing the Razor into its landing berth. She was quite pleased with what she saw. A number of the airboats had been completed, including the first class airboats she had been worried about; and it looked as if some of the first age craft had been made whole.

The Razor slipped smoothly into the docking clamp, the landing gear locking in. Sparrow shut the ship down, ran her post flight operations. Through the Canopy she could see Tar and Ivory waiting, both of them obviously wanting to talk to her. Ivory was carrying a large satchel over her shoulder.

Finished with the post flight Sparrow exited ship, locking it up behind her.

Tar looked uncertain, she thought as she walked towards him. The kind of uncertainty a man in his middle years, who was a skilled ship wright and foreman, might feel standing next to a 9 year old girl who probably knew more about ship building than he.

She felt for him, and it was why she went straight to him, asking for a report.

As Tar gave her a run down on the operation of the yards, and the status of the ships, the uncertainty fell away from him. Ivory waited quietly, but with obvious impatience, fidgeting and shifting from foot to foot as Tar spoke.

Sparrow moved off the spar, into the Tree, Tar and Ivory following her. By the time Tar had finished his report, which included a lot of details about the workers (things that Ivory tended to overlook) they were in a small observation room.

She hung her sword by the door and shifted out of her fur lined, buff jacket. "Sounds like you have things under control here Tar," she told him, tossing the jacket across one the chairs, the weight of the garment almost tipping the chair over.

"Thank you ma'am," he said, dipping his head respectfully.

"I want to lay the keels for three more first air class airboats, and I want to make them gunships."

"Gunships ma'am?"

"We have enough feather steel to properly armour them, and I have some ideas about the guns we are going to put on them."

"Fighting ships, they'll use a lot of resources," he told her, his tone uncertain.

"I know. I have considered the costs."

He nodded. "Of course. I'll have the reports for you tomorrow, and the teams ready to start as soon as you give the say."

"Good."

He stood there for a moment, waiting to see if Sparrow had anything else to say. Whet he realized she was done with him he turned and left the room.

Sparrow dropped into a seat. "Can we get some tea, or coffee or something? Any mechanical servants you can call?" she asked Ivory.

"Sorry, no servitors. I can build some."

"Maybe later. So, give me your..."

"Pardon me," Darken Gray said from the door. She held a tea set in her hands.

"That's a surprise," Sparrow said. "Listening in?"

"Perish the thought Captain Sparrow," she said, walking into the room. "I just assumed you might want something after a long flight, and Ivory still has much to learn about being a proper host."

"Thank you."

She put the tea set on a table and began to pour. "I would ask that you finish up with Ivory within an hour if possible. She is already missing her dance class."

"Dance class?" Sparrow asked, looking towards Ivory.

"I'm leanin' a martial art called Dreaming Pearl Courtesan," Ivory said. "Kind of like dancing."

"I would like to watch that."

"We can arrange that. It does Ivory good to have an audience," Darken Grey said as she put the tea cups in front of Ivory and Sparrow. "Now, please excuse me." She left without another word.

Sparrow lifted the cup and took a drink. It was hot, and bitter, with a floral hint that was pleasant. She smiled as she put the cup down. "I like your nanny."

"Governess," Ivory said sharply.

"Of course. Now what is your take on the situation?"

Ivory took a drink of her tea. "Tar has most of it. We are resource poor. No one really wants to sell to us, not that the materials we need are in abundance anyway." She reached for her satchel, opened it, and began to remove sheets of rolled paper. "I have some ideas."

"Let's hear them."

"We are going to need more feather steel to keep up production."

"If we can't buy it we need to salvage it or produce our own," Sparrow said. "Salvaging is too slow, and I don't have the resources to protect a mine. We could steal it I suppose, but that will not make us any friends."

"Agreed, so I looked at some old records. This place used't harvest a forest in the Wyld. The wood's lighter an' stronger than feather steel. Won't burn easy either."

"In the Wyld?"

"I know, we'll need to talk to Lightning, see what she can tell us about dealin' with the Fair Folk."

"So, what would the numbers be like?"

Ivory put several rolls of paper on the table, spread them out, used her tea cup and plate to hold them flat. "Three trips a year, two first class airships loaded up fully for each trip, would let us build at full capacity."

Sparrow looked at the pages Ivory had put in front of her. The girl's handwriting had improved quiet a bit she thought. "What's with all the machinery?"

"We'll need it to mill the wood. There's some in the lower levels, but it needs to be fixed up."

Sparrow looked over the requirements listed out next to the drawings. "Bit of work to do it, but worth it if we can get the wood."

"Yeah," Ivory agreed.

"Once Lightning gets back we will talk to her. What about the First Age ships?"

"Still lackin' parts and materials, but I got some of them working."

"The cargo ship I sent?"

Ivory nodded. "It's ready to go."

Sparrow smiled. "Heavy cargo lifting, that changes things."

Ivory lifted her shoulders. "A little bit." She removed several more rolls of paper from the satchel. "This is what I need to continue work on the first age ships."

Sparrow looked through lists, shuffling through them for a time before putting them aside. "I can't get you most of that."

Ivory nodded, apparently understanding, but disappointed.

"Given time..."

"Twenty or thirty years," Ivory said.

"About that." She looked at the disappointed Ivory, was a little angry that for some reason Ivory had expected her to have everything in her pocket. Then she felt a little guilty for that.

"I found your ship," she told Ivory, "your strike cruiser."

"Really?"

"Just where you said. It's in a valley, covered in ice."

"Covered in ice?"

Sparrow looked through the pages that Ivory had brought, flipped one over to the blank side. "Something to write with?"

Ivory reached into the satchel and brought out a writing kit.

Sparrow took it from her, opened it, and removed the brush and ink stone. In a short time she was drawing out the valley, her estimates of the dimensions, and then sketched in the cruiser's shape.

Ivory was leaning over the picture, watching as Sparrow worked. "How thick is the ice cover?"

"Twenty feet, maybe thirty."

Ivory leaned back. "That much ice, it could crush the hull, probably has."

"It was hard to say, but if the hull was crushed, it has still kept it shape."

Ivory brushed her thumb between her lips, gently bit on her thumbnail, eyes unfocused for a moment. "Maybe," she said, taking her thumb away from her lips, "it was meant to be covered in ice."

"For storage?"

Ivory nodded. "Maybe."

"We won't know until we salvage it. Can you get through the ice?"

"Demons, elementals, just need enough ta break through."

"It's close to the Wyld, on full moons it is probably in the Wyld. How long would it take?"

"To move the ice? Five, six days. Longer if the hull is damaged. If it's extant, at least a week to get it ready to fly. If it's damaged, maybe a month to fix it, if I have the materials. If we have to salvage it, two weeks to a month."

"I'll need a significant force to hold the area for a month."

"How long?" Ivory leaned forward.

"Six months to a year to put it together."

"A year?" Ivory nearly whined.

"It will take that much time to gather and train them. Lightning might be able to help with it."

"I guess," Ivory sighed. "I just want to see it."

"You and me both kid."

Ivory looked as if she might protest the use of 'kid', but instead she took several more rolls of paper from her satchel. "I looked into your floating island."

Now it was Sparrow's turn to lean forward. "What do you have?"

"In the First Age they built great, flying citadels, huge ones." She spread her arms out as if to give a sense of their vastness. "But we're a hundred years 'way from being able to start buildin' them, and another hundred years after that 'fore we finish one."

"I don't have the patience to wait two centuries."

"Me neither. So I looked at your idea of grabbing one from the Wyld. It can work."

Ivory spread the sheets out. "There are reports of flying islands like that, and sometimes, in the First Age, they lassoed a fewed and pulled them into Creation. Usually it was for resources, cause they were made up entirely of some material they wanted."

"Did they ever use them like we want to?"

Ivory shook her head. "Not that I could find out. The problem is once you get it into Creation it is going to stop floatin', sooner or later. But if you had a limited area chaos engine, you could keep the central part of the Island in the Wyld, so it would float."

"Chaos engine?"

"Kind of like a reality engine, but in reverse."

"You could build a chaos engine?"

"I don't see why not."

Sparrow decided to leave that statement alone. "So we find an island, set up a chaos engine, and pull it into Creation? What about motive force?"

"That's harder. Once it is in Creation if might have to go with the winds, mostly."

Sparrow looked over the plans Ivory had lain out. "You can work on that?"

Ivory nodded.

"Damn, we're getting busy here. I'm going to be asking Lightning to do a lot here. We need more lunars."

"I don't want 'em," Ivory said. "I mean, Lightning is alright... but, I don't want one bothering Heron."

Sparrow was surprised for a moment, thought about it, decided that she agreed with Ivory. She herself had no desire to share Heron with anyone else. Not about to say that to Ivory she said, "We'll see." Which was an adult to child cop out that Sparrow had hated when she had been Ivory's age but was glad of now.

"That's all I have for now," Ivory said as she began to gather up her notes.

"Good work, thank you Ivory."

Ivory nodded, smiled.

* * *

Dragon easily trotted up slope, hoofs thumping down on the frozen dirt. Nearby Dreaming Blue rode, not as well as he, but well enough. Behind them, drawn by a team of yeddim, was a large wagon, weighed down with various goods, including a fortune in jade and silver.

The Ice Tree had been built in a crater of some sort, natural or created Heron did not know, so anyone approaching from the ground had to contend with the slope first. It was steep enough to make the climb hard, and the six yeddim were straining as they neared the crater rim.

On the rim, waiting for them, were members of the barbarian tribe, mounted on tall reindeer.

"Will this be a problem?" Dreaming Blue asked, no alarm in her tone.

"No, Sparrow and Lightning won Lashang and his tribe over early on."

"Are they any good?"

"They are getting there, thanks in part to him."

Heron rose a hand, both pointing and greeting. Near the centre of the line of riders, a heavy cloak covering his armour, was Kihoshi. The Dragon Blood lifted his arm in answer, the late day sun reflecting off the metal.

Dreaming Blue frowned. "Isn't that one of the Terrestrials that was hunting you?"

"He was."

"And now he serves you."

"Yes."

"You are terrible."

"I try my best."

They continued up the rim, the yeddim breathing heavily, their breath great gusts of vapour.

"Welcome back," Kihoshi called out.

"Thank you," Heron said. "This is Dreaming Blue. Dreaming Blue, Cathak Kihoshi."

The fire aspect favoured Dreaming Blue with a smile as he looked her up and down. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Yes," Dreaming Blue said.

Heron looked at the barbarians around them. They met his gaze, but nodded respectfully. "Let's go," he said, directing Dragon over the rim.

Kihoshi fell in beside him as the barbarian reindeer riders split off, riding along the ridge. Behind him her head the yeddim grunt and blow as they pulled the wagon over the rim. Dreaming Blue's horse followed.

"How are things up there?" he asked, looking towards the Ice Tree.

"Things are good, as far as I can tell. Built a lot more ships than they thought they would. Captain Sparrow's been back for two days now. I hear she's got them laying keels for gunboats."

"Gunboats?" Dreaming Blue asked. "Whatever for?"

"Ask her," Kihoshi answered, and then to Heron, "Your little sister has things set up quite nicely."

Heron smiled. "Good to see she has been keeping busy. I feared what she might do if she became bored."

Kihoshi laughed and continued to tell him of the state of the Ice Tree and its inhabitants.

They rode along one of the few safe paths, avoiding ice pits and the broken rock that might shift and cause a mount to fall. The Ice Tree loomed higher above them, and the closer they rode the clearer the ships that docked upon the spars became.

There were more ships that he had expected; even with Kihoshi's earlier statement to that effect he was somewhat surprised, and said as much.

"Tell me about it. No one quiet believes it," Kihoshi said. "They are burning through resources faster than they can get replacements."

"I believe it," Dreaming Blue said, not sounding happy.

Heron looked back at her. He smiled. "And we are just starting."

"I am aware."

He continued smiling as he turned back to the path ahead.

The path became easier to follow, clearer, better maintained, as they closed on the Ice Tree's base. The lowest part of the main shaft of the tree was near featureless wall, only a single set of doors leading into it—most of the supplies and people were brought in by airship.

Kihoshi slid down from his mount, taking its reins, and approached the doors. He placed his hand on a black plate beside the one of the door.s A moment later the doors parted and opened, warm, scented air rolling out, carrying the smell of animals with it.

Heron rode Dragon through the doors, into a stable level. The interior was brightly lit, almost like real sunlight, and the animals looked happy enough. Stable hands were busy, keeping the area clean and the animals cared for.

He rode to a large stall, slid from Dragon's back and then led him in. While stablehands helped Dreaming Blue and Kihoshi with their mounts, and led the yeddim and wagon in, Heron took care of Dragon himself. After he had stripped the saddle and bridle from the horse he took a comb to him. Once finished he poured a generous portion of oats into the feeding trough and made sure the water was fresh.

By that time more stablehands were unloading the wagon, the yeddim having been led to a coral. Dreaming Blue had taken a place by the wagon, watching the workers.

"It's not like they are going to steal it," Heron said as he walked to her.

"I helped earn some of that jade. I will see it properly delivered."

"How much jade?" Kiyoshi asked.

"Quite a bit," Heron said.

The supplies were piled neatly, sorted by contents. When they got to the large wooden cases in the bottom Heron told the workers to carry them right to the cargo lift. None of the cases were very large, a few feel long on each side, not very deep, but they were heavy with precious metals.

After several minutes of hard work the boxes were all in the lift, weighing it down.

"Let's go," Heron said.

The lift took them, the jade and silver up the middle levels of the Ice Tree. The doors opened on a large room, Sparrow standing in front of the doors, several armed guards with her.

"Welcome back," she said to Heron, smiling brightly. "Funds?" She raised her hands, indicating the boxes.

"As promised," he told her with an answering smile almost as bright. Seeing her brought a certain sense of contentment, the feeling of meeting a friend not seen for a long time.

"Get these into the main vault," she told the guards.

The guards quickly went to the task.

Heron moved out of their way.

"Isn't she the Sidereal that was with us at Thorns?"

"Yes, she is here to protect Ivory."

"Ivory?"

Heron nodded.

Sparrow laughed.

"Yes, very amusing," Dreaming Blue said, her tone cold.

Sparrow only shrugged her shoulders and asked, "What is the financial situation like?"

"Those boxes just represent about a tenth of what I managed to put together. The rest is held in finical institutions for you to draw on. It should cover the operating expense for about five years."

"You're joking?"

"Not one bit."

"That is one less worry then, which is handy because we do not have a shortage of worries. So really, what's the Sidereal doing here?"

"Dreaming Blue, and she says she has been assigned to protect Ivory and to keep us out of trouble, an advisor of sorts."

Sparrow looked over at her. "And why would he believe you?"

"He does not, as it happens. But Darken Gray will speak to it. You will believe her?"

"I will admit she is doing her best to take care of the girl."

"Where is Ivory right now? I thought she would be here."

"In her fencing lesson I believe. Her nurse has probably ensured she has not learned about your return."

"Governess," Heron said with a smile.

"Oh yes, well, an honest mistake."

The guards were still moving the crates into the vault. "Carry on commander," Sparrow told one of them, and then, "Let's go to my office. We can talk there is some comfort. Kihoshi, supervise the transfer."

"Understood," Kihoshi said.

"Let's go." Sparrow led the way, taking them to an office a few levels above the vaults.

"Why the gunboats?" Heron asked once they had taken seats.

"We've done some amazing things here," Sparrow told him. "People are noticing. Some are getting scared and some are covetous. Both good reasons to have some extra offensive ability."

"Just human?"

"As far as I know. What have you found out?"

Heron relayed the story of the events at Jallian and the Yozi.

"Strange," Sparrow said.

"Yes," he answered with a laugh.

"I probably would have thought to bring the ship back here. Ivory and Lightning as well."

"In other circumstances I might have as well," Heron said.

"And what do you think Sidereal?" Sparrow asked Dreaming Blue.

"I think you have more enemies than friends."

"What, do you think that is not obvious?"

"I might be an advisor, but I am not here to spoon feed you the information you want."

"Dreaming Blue is actually here to spy on us," Heron said.

"Really?" Sparrow turned her gaze on Dreaming Blue.

"Are you acting to betray Creation?" the Sidereal asked.

Sparrow nodded. "I am sure that if I am you will be certain to inform me after the fact. Heron, did you bring her here for us to get rid of?"

"Not at this time. I trust she will he honest about our activities."

"We do indeed have more enemies than friends." Sparrow was staring at Dreaming Blue, as if she was trying to see right through her.

Heron shifted about in his chair to get her attention. "As long as Dreaming Blue focuses on looking out for Ivory she'll be busy enough."

Sparrow looked at him for several seconds. "I understand."

Heron supposed she did, but he would talk to her in private later. "We have things we will need to talk about, plans to make."

"Once Lightning gets back," Sparrow told him.

"Pardon me for intruding," Dreaming Blue said archly, "but I would like to talk to Ivory."

"I'll handle the introductions," Heron said as he got to his feet. "We can talk later."

"I look forward to it," Sparrow said.

She sounded sincere, and Heron found that he was pleased about that.

* * *

Ivory was not pleased that no one has let her know that Heron was back. She was even less pleased by the presence of Dreaming Blue.

"I am not letting you have the watch," Ivory said angrily, her short daiklaive lifted.

Hu stood nearby, a quiet and obvious threat.

"Jupiter give me patience," Dreaming Blue said.

Heron was laughing, softly, but obviously so, and that made Ivory angry in a way she could not quite sort out at that moment.

"Ivory," Darken Gray said, "put your sword down."

"But..."

"You are being impolite."

Ivory frowned, but lowered her blade. "She's an enemy," Ivory said.

"I fought with you against the Mask," Dreaming Blue said in way of counter.

It was, Ivory had to admit, a valid point.

"She is here to watch over you. She is your bodyguard," Darken Gray told her.

"What?" Ivory turned to look at her.

"Say, 'Pardon me', and Aisha Hikari Ex has done you the great honour of arranging a Sidereal bodyguard."

"You knew about this?" It was, Ivory thought, something of a betrayal. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why should I have told you?"

Ivory's first thought was to scream something rude at Darken Grey that would explain exactly why she should have been told, but she checked that desire, with difficulty, knowing it would make her look childish in front of Heron.

"I would have liked to know." Her words were a little sharp, each a little too stressed to sound natural, but at least she was not shouting.

"I will remember that," Darken Gray said. "I look forward to working with you Dreaming Blue."

Ivory gave up and turned to Heron. "I am glad you're back," she said, smiling. "I got things to show you."

"I look forward to seeing them. You tiger gun was quite useful."

"I knew'd it be," she said happily.

"Our Sidereal friend was rather disturbed by it."

"Good," Ivory said.

"Ivory," Darken Gray said, tone warning.

"I am thinking of making a bigger one for one of Sparrow's gunships, Going to call it the gardra gun."

"Sound terrifying." His tone was light.

She nodded.

"You'll excuse us Heron-sama," Darken Gray said, "I must speak to Ivory. Perhaps you can continue your conversation later?"

Ivory turned to stare at Darken Gray, eyes narrowed in what she thought was a clear sign of anger.

Darken Gray did not seem to to notice.

"Of course," Heron said.

"You don't haf to to leave," Ivory said, shifting her attention to Heron.

"We can talk later." He gently ruffled her hair, then left.

"I wanted to talk to Heron." She turned on Darken Gray.

Darken Gray looked down at her, frowning.

Ivory looked up at her, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Perhaps you can have your little power struggle later," Dreaming Blue said. "At the moment we have some things to discuss."

"What?" Ivory asked.

"Ivory, you are being boring," Darken Gray said.

That hurt, Ivory thought. "Perhaps you would care to tell me how you came to be my body guard," she said to Dreaming Blue, frostily polite.

"Of course."

"Let us go someplace where we can sit in comfort." Darken Gray led the way from the room, Dreaming Blue following.

Ivory looked over at Hu, then went after the two women.

Darken Gray took them to a small, warm room. As the sidereal took a seat in one of the room's over stuffed chairs, the god set about making a pot of tea, doing so in a supernaturally short time. Ivory chose one of the less stuffed chairs, not wanting to sink into it, and waited.

Soon the three of them sat, with cups of tea, facing each other. Ivory took a drink of her's, tasting more milk than tea.

"Why you?" Ivory asked.

"Chejop Kejak wants me to uncover your crimes against Creation."

"What crimes?"

"Any will do."

Ivory leaned forward in her chair, doubting she looked as intimidating as she hoped. "Have you told Heron?"

"Yes I have."

Ivory did not like that. "We've done nothin' wrong!"

"That is mostly true. And as long as you remain innocent of such crimes, you have nothing to worry about."

"I am glad to hear that. My lady Aisha Hikari Ex would be somewhat disappointed to learn otherwise." Darken Gray let that sink in as she took a drink of her tea.

"So I have been tasked to keep you well. I am also here for the orrery."

"You can't have it!"

"Ivory," Darken Gray said sharply.

Ivory turned her attention to Darken Gray. "This is between two Exalts." She kept her tone level that time.

Darken Gray did not immediately answer, but after a moment said, "Very well."

"It's mine."

Dreaming Blue shook her head. "What about we come to an agreement?"

"What kind?" Ivory was suspicious.

"I will teach your as much as I can about the orrery, and during those lessons I have access to it."

"Is this gonna be learnin' 'strology?" Ivory asked.

"Astrology," Darken Gray corrected.

"There will be aspects of that, yes," Dreaming Blue said only a beat behind the governess. "However it will be nothing like astrology that have might have studied until now."

Ivory thought about it for a moment. "Deal," she said, holding out her hand towards Dreaming Blue.

The Sidereal looked at Ivory for a moment, then reached out and took Ivory's hand.

"Let's start," Ivory said.

"You do have an etiquette class, one which you are much in need of," Darken Gray told her.

Ivory shifted her attention to Darken Gray. "But Darken Gray, it would be impolite to not let our guest examine the orrery."

"Not bad," Darken Gray admitted.

"Interesting change of attitude," Dreaming Blue remarked.

"I will allow the change in your schedule for today, as we have a guest."

Ivory did not trust Dreaming Blue, it would be stupid to do so. Heron had brought her in however, so she could not be immediately dangerous.

Ivory produced the orrery. She placed it on the table in front of Dreaming Blue.

The Sidereal looked at it for several seconds, the same look in her eyes as when Ivory had first let her use it. She picked it up, opened the case, and as it had last time, it expanded out and out and out until stars filled the space above the orrery case.

Ivory leaned forward, watching, for she had not been able to replicate what Dreaming Blue did. There was, she thought, essence involved, Sidereal essence.

"Everything spins about, a state of flux," Dreaming Blue remarked. "Everyone is planning something."

"What does it mean?"

"The obvious," Dreaming Blue said. "The Calendar of Setesh is in flux, so much uncertainty at the moment. The Green Sun and the constellations of brass ride along on the outskirts of Creation. And in the Wyld the Raksha follow their insane dictates."

"Isn't that how it usually is?" Ivory asked.

Dreaming Blue nodded. "All except for the Underworld, but with all the changes one would expect chaos there." She ran her fingers along the casing and the constellations jumped and refocused. "And here are the forces in play around you."

Ivory looked up at the image, gently biting her lower lip for a moment. "That's the Green Sun, isn't it?"

"It is. We already knew there were elements from Malfeas interested in you, but it is eclipsed by the True Sun."

"So we're winning," Ivory said.

"You are certainly dominant in this conflict for the moment." Dreaming Blue paused, looking up at the the star scape "The Corpse and the Crow are in the house of the Moon," she said thoughtfully, "the Lovers are shadowed by the Spear, and Calendar of Setesh drifts close."

"What does it mean?"

"It could mean anything, but the Moon is usually not so close to the Underworld."

Ivory thought of many things it could suggest, but knew that simply guessing was not going to get her the information.

"Tell me more please," she said, looking up at the orrery. "Explain it all."

"It would take decades to explain it all," Dreaming Blue told her, "but we can start with what we are seeing now."

* * *

"Do you really trust her?" Sparrow asked when Heron returned. "I mean, even if just trust she won't kill us in our sleep?"

"We have attracted attention," Heron said as he took a seat. "That is both good and bad. It limits what direct actions Dreaming Blue's superior can take against us. She won't kill us in our sleep."

"That's something," she said doubtfully.

"I would think so. That is the danger within, what about the danger from the outside?"

"No one is quite willing to go against us, but we are certainly on their maps. It would not take too much effort to get some nations launching probing attacks to see what we will do. I have the resources to slap down such an attack if it comes."

"Give me some time and I can work on some diplomatic solutions. It should not be too hard to create a ring around us, quiet allies who will keep the others away, or at least give us warning."

"It would make our position more secure." Sparrow leaned back in her chair. "We are reaching the point where we either have to spend resources to dig in here or we cut loose and find a place more remote and easier to defend."

"We would be giving up a lot if we left here."

"Physical resources, easily replaced."

Heron was not so certain of that, but did not question Sparrow's assertion. "So, what are the plans, barring defending ourselves or retreating?"

"I need to set up a better supply chain, Ivory has given me some options. And there are some salvage projects I want to look into."

"What are the supply chain issues?"

"A lack of one. Most of the materials we need are already in high demand."

"That is something of a challenge. If anyone does have a surplus they are willing to trade with I can do something."

Sparrow smiled. "You could gamble for it."

"I would be surprised if anyone that controlled such a surplus would put it up as stakes."

"You could convince them to," Sparrow said, leaning forward slightly.

"That is something I would rather not do."

Sparrow looked a little surprised and shifted back. "Why?"

Heron was at a loss for a moment for the right words. He finally said, "I only gamble with people who have made the choice to do so. Otherwise it is just stealing."

"It seems a lot like stealing as it is. Do you ever lose?"

Heron laughed for a moment. "Sometimes, it is never a certain thing."

"Given that we will not be stealing, that leaves pursuing other options to get our building supplies. I'll have to speak with Lightning when she gets back."

"When do you expect her to return?"

"I'm not really certain, if she follows her usual pattern, perhaps in the next week or two."

"I will wait until she is is back before I make any plans."

"So you will stay?" Sparrow shifted forward again, there was something in her tone that Heron thought was eager.

He nodded.

"It will be good to have you back."


	7. Occluded Sun Revealed

**Occluded Sun Revealed**

* * *

The pilot, a man named Lofar, of the courier airboat looked nervously between passengers and destination. Lightning was of the opinion that he was regretting his decision. He was a dark skinned southerner, with an accent that suggested he had not been born in the north.

"You have nothing to worry about," Lightning reassured him.

It was not the first time that she had told the man that, worried that he might bring the small airboat around and flee back the way he had come. That would certainly be a problem.

"Of course, of course," Lofar said, keeping a hand on the tiller as he reached up to grab one of the lines, giving it a nervous tug.

The cabin of the boat was not very big, and Lofar needed most of that space, so Courtesan sat near to Lightning The woman was dressed in her cloak, under it she wore winter clothing against the cold, and bonds of leather to keep her secure. Lightning had not gagged her, but left that as a promise were Courtesan to cause her any problems.

"Something's coming," Lofar said.

Lightning shifted about, looking in the direction of the pilot. In the distance, but approaching, was another ship. Probably a second class airboat. "Keep going, they are only coming out to take a look."

"Are you sure?" Lofar asked nervously.

Using essence to give her words more weight she said, "There is nothing to worry about."

He nodded, no longer seeming nervous.

Lightning leaned back, waiting for the other ship to reach them. When she had left there was no reason that the forces of the Ice Tree would react with immediate violence to incoming airships. If that had changed likely Lofar and his airboat were not going to survive.

As they got closer Lightning could see more of the ship. It was armed with small ballistae and the like, and on the side closest to them she could make out soldiers armed with bows. Even if it was not carrying such weaponry the size differences between the two craft put the courier ship at a disadvantage. Near the stern one of the sailors was waving large flags.

"Flags," Lofar said, "signals, telling us to keeping moving forward, cut forward speed."

"Better do so then."

Lofar loosened one of the lines, the ship's main sail dropping so it would catch less wind.

The larger airboat came around them and took up a parallel course, following them into the Ice Tree's airspace.

There were more signals sent up, and the courier boat was directed towards a spar, high on the Ice Tree, far from any of the other, occupied spars.

Lofar tossed a line to the ground crew on the end of the spar. One of the crew, a heavy set man, grabbed the line, pulled it into a windlass, and fed it into the sprocket system.

Both of the crew spun the windlass and the courier boat was brought to a jerking halt and then pulled to the spar.

As well as the ground crew there were four guards waiting for them, and as the crew secured the ship one of the guards stepped close. "What is your reason for coming here?" she asked.

Lightning leaned over the gondola. "It's good to see you Una."

The woman looked surprised. "Madam Lightning, I am glad to see you back."

"Glad to be back. Any issues?"

"No Madam, but Captain Sparrow has asked us to run a tighter watch."

"Probably a good thing. Lofar," she looked over at the pilot, "do you need anything?"

"If they got some kerosene I can buy, that'd be good. A little time to give the boat a once over before leaving."

Lightning took Courtesan's shoulder in a tight grip and directed her towards the side of the gondola. "Get him what he needs," she told the tallest of the ground crew, "within reason for course." She looked towards Una. "Help me get her down."

Una handed her spear to another of the guards and came close to give courtesan a hand down.

Bound as she was Courtesan could do little, and was handed down as if she were a pice of luggage. Next Lightning tossed down their packs. Una took the bags and Lightning jumped from the gondola. She directed Courtesan towards the main shaft of the Ice Tree. Three of the guards remained to watch over the pilot and the ship, but Una, carrying their bags, led the way for Lightning.

The door into the main structure was locked, and Una had to open it with a key and a combination.

It was very warm inside, quite different from when Lightning had left. "Ivory got the heating back on?"

"Yes Madam. It has become very comfortable here."

"Hopefully it is not dulling your edge."

Una smiled, flashing teeth that were perhaps a little too sharp. "We make sure to spend time outside. The cold keeps us honed."

"Glad to hear it. Where is Sparrow?"

"She would have been told about the approaching ship, so she is probably down near the Razor's docking spar."

"Take us there."

The elevators, which had been uncertain at best when she had left, worked flawlessly and took them quickly to the middle levels of the tree. They found Sparrow talking to Tar near one of the exits out onto a spar.

"Lightning, I am glad you're back."

"Glad to be back."

"And this is?" she looked towards Courtesan.

"Not here. I'll explain later. And I need a secure place for my guest."

"Tar, Una, you can go now," Sparrow said.

The two left.

Sparrow waited until there was little chance of her being overheard and asked, "You need a prison cell?"

"That is what I need."

Sparrow looked at the cloaked Courtesan. "Interesting. Let's go to my office and I will send someone for Ivory. She'll know the best place to put her."

"I don't..." Lightning paused. "Yes, that is a good idea."

Sparrow waited as if to see if Lightning might explain herself better. When it was obvious she would not Sparrow said, "This way."

Along the way she sent someone to get Ivory.

They had not been in Sparrow's office long, enough time for Sparrow to offer something to drink, when Ivory came in, accompanied by two women; Darken Gray and Dreaming Blue.

"Politics?" Lightning said to the Sidereal.

Dreaming Blue looked surprised for a moment, and then nodded. "Quite."

"Ivory, Lightning needs someplace secure of her guest," Sparrow said.

"Wait," Lightning said, who had been distracted by Dreaming Blue's presence.

Ivory on seeing who that guest was let out a cry of surprise, jumping back, golden strings of essence forming between her fingers.

"Wait!" Lightning yelled again, even as she saw Hu crouching on the far side of the room... where he had come from she did not know, probably some a patch of shadow. She moved between the Courtesan and Ivory. "She's my prisoner."

"She tried to kill me," Ivory said, not backing down.

"Hold it," Sparrow said loudly.

"Why was she trying to kill Ivory?" Dreaming Blue asked even as she turned her body to shield Ivory.

Lightning was not sure how to explain that and keep a fight from starting, so she said, "Haven't you wanted to kill her?"

"Good point."

"No one is killing Ivory," Darken Gray said.

"No one is killing anyone," Sparrow shouted as her caste mark flared into being on her forehead and she slammed her fist down on her desk, cracking the wood.

Everyone in the room turned to look at Sparrow.

"Lightning, Explain please," Sparrow said, her essence fuelled tone brooking no argument.

Lightning flipped the funeral cloak away from Courtesan, revealing the leather straps that secured her arms behind her back, and the chain that hobbled her ankles. "She's secure."

"She's a death knight, she could break free at any moment," Ivory said.

"She is not going to break free," Lightning said, suddenly tired of it all. "Look, I just need a place to lock her up. Then we can talk."

"Ivory, we need a cell to hold her. Now."

Ivory looked like she might argue with Sparrow, but only for a moment. "Fine, there is a secure room on the ninth level."

"Ivory, don't be petulant," Darken Gray said.

"She was trying to kill me I can be as petulant as I want!" Ivory countered.

"You will have to get used to that and deal with it with grace and poise."

Ivory opened her mouth, then closed it, took a deep breath and said, "Fine, this way." Ivory was about to turn with Dreaming Blue put a hand on her shoulder.

"Grace and poise aside, you don't get in the same lift as someone who might still want you dead," Dreaming Blue told her. She looked up at Lightning. "Perhaps you should go ahead."

"Right," Lightning said, pulling the cloak back over Courtesan before leading her from the room.

It was when they were in the lift that Courtesan said, her tone soft, "I don't feel the need to kill her."

"I know," Lightning said. "I was watching you."

"So it was a test?"

Lightning did not reply, just watched her.

The woman was far from broken. She was deceptively strong, and deadly, and so damn beautiful. The last thought surprised Lightning, not so much for that it was, but that it had escaped her control.

On the ninth level she directed Courtesan to an out of the way place they could wait in silence.

When Ivory arrived, with her retinue of protectors, Lightning followed to the room that was going to be the cell.

"Secure storage," Ivory said. "Can't be opened from the inside."

Lightning looked around the bare room as she led Courtesan into it. "She'll need some place to sleep, blankets, and the like."

"I asked Captain Sparrow to have some things sent," Darken Gray said.

"Thank you."

Lightning removed the bindings from Courtesan, allowing her to take off the warm clothing. She then secured her again, the ankle hobbles and set of cuffs to locked her hands in front of her. If the Abyssal wanted to break free she could probably do so, but as long as the room was secure it would not matter.

By then the cot, blankets and others things had arrived.

As Lightning pushed on the heavy door the small room looked a little more comfortable. Still a cell. She closed the door.

"Is there a key?"

Ivory shook her head. "It requires a code, and can be sent to need a caste mark."

"Good. Set it to open with mine."

Ivory did as asked, and Lightning walked back towards the lifts, feeling better that Courtesan was not getting out and that no one would accidentally open the door.

Heron was waiting in Sparrow's office. It was crowded with all of them in there, but they managed to take seats, and there was hot tea for anyone who wanted it. Lightning did, enjoying the warmth and the subtle, bitter taste of the leaves that made her feel a little more aware.

Sparrow looked around at the gathering in her office. "Why did you bring an Abyssal here, especially one that was trying to kill Ivory?"

"It is something we should keep amongst us," Lightning said, her gaze falling on the Solars and the tiger.

"Are you keeping secrets already?" Dreaming Blue asked. "Should I be concerned about what you are planning with an enemy of Creation?"

"If Lightning does not want you here, you go. Report whatever you want," Sparrow said.

Things were a little tense in that room, Lightning thought. She shifted her gaze to Dreaming Blue, noticed a slight shift of the woman's throat, as if she was trying not to swallow. A little anger, but, something else.

"She can stay," Lightning said, "as can Gray." She looked towards the god. "You deserve to know why I brought a threat like this here."

"Thank you," Darken Gray said, lowering her chin and dipping her head formally.

"Alright, then let's talk," Sparrow said.

Lightning took another drink of her tea, knowing everyone in that room was watching her, waiting for her explanation. "She is called Nihilistic Courtesan. She was born near Great Forks, became an Abyssal more than a year ago and was trained as an assassin. She is my Solar Mate."

She had expected something of an explosion of questions, of denials, confused noise. She did not get it. Sparrow looked surprised, but did not voice it. Darken Gray took in a breath, a little louder than her usual breathing. Hu growled softly.

"Do you want to kill her?" Heron asked.

Lightning laughed. "More so than you can know."

"But her shard," he said.

Lightning nodded.

"How?" Sparrow asked.

"I have a few ideas, but ask her," Lightning said, looking over at Dreaming Blue. "She knows."

Dreaming Blue did not defend herself, simply said, "Know is a strong word, suspected, have theories, those are closer to the truth. I have spoken to some of Saturn's Sidereals, and there are secrets involved."

"So share with us your theories," Lightning said, surprised by the anger in her tone, the desire she was feeling to take her warshape.

Dreaming Blue was watching her. "I suppose that we should have shared this information with the Lunars. You had the right to know."

"What about the Solar's right to know?" Ivory demanded.

Lightning ignored Ivory, relaxing, some of the anger ebbing. "Tell us."

Dreaming Blue waited a few moments, as if to collect her thoughts. "Several months after the Solars first started returning to Creation the first of the Abyssal Exalted was reported. A servant as such that the Deathlords had never before had, but then did, close on the heels of the Solars' return. Satrun's servants first suspected then. There has been much more evidence to make it almost certain, but, I have never seen anything I could accept as complete proof, until today I suppose."

"How does death co-opt the power of the Sun?" Heron asked.

"If Saturn's agents know they have not shared that information with me. But the Death Lords are powerful, and more powerful, though broken and mad, are their Neverborn masters."

"I don't care how they did it," Lightning told them. "I want to know how to fix it. I can't kill her while she is an Abyssal, so I need to make her a Solar again."

"What?" Dreaming Blue asked.

Lightning reached out and grasped Ivory by the shoulder, turning the girl to face her. "I need you to tell me how to make that happen."

"Oh," Ivory said.

"You can't ask her to do that," Darken Gray said.

Lightning looked at the god. "She is a Twilight."

Darken Gray frowned, but said nothing to that.

"I'll have to look at her shard," Ivory said.

"How do you plan to do that Golden Eyes?"

Ivory looked at Heron. "I think there is something in my manse that can help."

"You have a manse?" Sparrow asked.

"The Manse of the White Thorn. It's where Heron and I first met," she said, sounding smug.

"Where is it?"

"In the Scavenger Lands, near Great Forks. It's a tower."

"I don't care what is it," Lightning interrupted. "How soon can we get there?"

"A day or two with the Razor I guess."

Lightning was about to get to her feet but Heron said, "Wait a moment. We can leave soon enough, but there are things we need to discuss first."

She settled back into her chair. "Like what?"

"First of all, how did you come to take this Courtesan prisoner?"

"Fair enough." Lightning started the tale in Lookshy, when she had first seen Nihilistic Courtesan, their battle in Thorns, and then coming across the injured Abyssal after they had defeated the Mast of Winters. She ended with how she had had Courtesan imprisoned and how another death knight had come after her.

"After I saved her and dealt with the other Abyssal, apparently a woman named Faded Maiden, I made my way back here."

"So the Death Lords have sent assassins after Courtesan. Should we expect an attack here?" Sparrow asked.

"I don't know," Lightning admitted. "There have not been any other attacks, I've no reason to think anyone has been following us."

"She was fairly desperate to kill Ivory, was she not?" Heron asked.

"It seemed so," Lightning said.

Ivory nodded.

"But she's not now?"

"That is what she's said."

"And you believe her?"

Lightning paused, considering the question closely, the behaviour of Courtesan, what she had said and what Lightning had seen. "Yes."

"Why?" Heron asked. "Why was she driven to kill Ivory before and now is not? Why aren't there more assassins after her?"

"You do not understand your enemies," Dreaming Blue said.

Lightning looked over at the woman. "What do you know about it?"

"You are here to act as an advisor," Heron added.

Dreaming Blue said nothing for a time, as if thinking. "The Neverborn are insane," she finally said.

"They're crazy so that explains it all?" Lightning asked.

"Simplistic. Somewhat true, but simplistic."

"Make it complicated then," Lightning told her.

"The Neverborn could not die, but they were betrayed and killed. They are creatures who live in fear that something worse will happen to them, beyond Oblivion, which they seek. Their insanity is based on terror and paranoia."

Dreaming Blue looked around, as if waiting for anyone to continue for her.

"At Metagalpa, they became aware of Ivory, and for whatever reasons, sent Courtesan after her, but only Courtesan."

"Whatever frightened them, they wanted Ivory dead, but they did not want any of their other servants to know about that," Sparrow said, her tone suggesting she had understood. "In case they used whatever threat Ivory represents against them."

Dreaming Blue nodded.

"And now they don't want her to come after me cause of the attention it might draw," Ivory said.

"A theory," Heron replied.

"Fits the facts."

"I want to help Lightning," Sparrow said. "What do you need?" She looked over at Ivory.

"Just transport."

"There will be some work, to make sure the Ice Tree remains secure," Heron told them. "It will take about two days." He looked between Sparrow and Lightning.

"I can wait," Lightning said, though she would have preferred to be off immediately.

* * *

Shortish chapter this time.

Thank for the reviews, I appreciate knowing that people are reading. If you have any criticism, please let me know. Easier to correct and fix in the earlier stages.


	8. Intermission Players

**Intermission Players**

* * *

Two bars of the soulsteel, matte and black like dark iron. The Shoat of Mire drew a bare finger down the length of one of the cold bars. The metal moaned under her finger as a single ghostly face rippled along its length.

"Never seen anything like it," she said, and then giggled. "Guess they really hated him."

"Indeed," the master of the forge said. He was a nephwrack, powerful and insane as all the old ones tended to be.

"Where are they goin'" she asked, rubbing her hand on the second one, finding a certain delight in the sound it made.

The nephwrack did not answer as it looked down at her, the fire like light in the eye sockets growing with what Shoat could only think of as malevolent radiance.

The master of the forge, Shoat of Mire did not know its real name, hated her. She had learned that many of the old ghosts hated the Abyssals.

"Guess you don't know," she said. "Guess no one's gonna tell ya."

"They are still up for bidding," he said, goaded by her words. "There are several interested parties."

She looked back at the bars, at the single ghost within each. "Guess everyone really hates Heron." She paused, chewed on the nail of her thumb. "Or they really want some powerful soulsteel." Turning away from the steel she looked directly at the nephwrack. "Is my sword ready?"

He looked over at a nearby table, his only answer.

She left him to examine the table. A cloth of black silk covered the object which rested upon the surface. The Shoat of Mire pulled it free, revealing the grand daiklaive beneath. Longer than she was tall, wider than her hands placed together, thumb to thumb, within it hundreds of ghosts moved about, face prints and hand prints appearing and fading, like frost on a window.

Symmetrical, the edges not quite straight, gentle curves, about three quarters towards the tip the line cut in towards the centre, then out again, creating a vicious little notch on both sides. It ended in a triangular point. It was a brutal weapon, meant for little other than destruction. She loved it.

Her hand closed upon the hilt, and it was heavy, probably heavier than she, but the Shoat of the Mire fed her essence into the blade, which shrieked with the voices of the hundreds of ghosts imprisoned within. After several heartbeats she lifted it.

Taking it in a two handed grip she swung it about, getting a feel for it, then brought it down upon the table, shattering the wood with a single blow.

"It's name is..." the nephwrack said.

"It's name is Harlot's Fall, containing the ghost of two hundred and twenty five whores," Shoat of Mire sang. "Two hundred and twenty five, from the most refined courtesans to the most base sluts. Such a suitable gift for a child who will never grow up." She laughed and spun about, coming at the nephwrack, stopping the blade inches from his skull. "Shall they all be my aunties, whispering about the grownup pleasures I will never know?"

The nephwrack stepped back, staring at her. "They shall be what our mistress demands, and you and I shall be as well."

Shoat of Mire laughed again, swinging the huge blade around so it rested across her narrow shoulders, looking as if it should crush her. "Yes, yes, dear mommy will have her way, and I'll be happy." She took several graceful steps, as if the metal she carried had no weight. "Will she next have a new set of armour made from the ghosts of child rapists for me to wear?"

"No such orders have been given," the nephwrack said, "perhaps you will be sent out to gather such."

She laughed once more, and stepped back again, to look at the bars of soulsteel, to reach out and touch them. "I would far prefer a weapon or armour made from these two."

"Then you will be disappointed," the old ghost told her, obvious glee in his tone.

The Shoat of Mire giggled, then lashed out with her sword, turning the blade and shattering the lower left leg of the nephwrack, her essence flaring along the metal as it made the wound such that the ghost would never heal from.

It howled in pain and anger.

"Don't need a good leg to work the forge," she sang.

* * *

The rulers of Lookshy had been flawlessly polite, and completely unhelpful. The Riders of Marukan had been openly hostile. The lands that had once been Thorns were tainted, had cost a few lives, and had revealed nothing.

The result was that when they had come to Valley Water, tempers had been stretched thin. When a young man has asked them to leave the town and its people in peace, for the mercy of the Dragons, Deled had taken offence.

Citing the true meaning of the scripture of mercy, he had nearly beaten the man to death.

Anzar had watched without interfering, not that he had thought to stop Deled. In the weeks they had travelled together he had gone out of his way to avoid the direct attention of the Master of the Wyld Hunt.

Around them, watching the crowd, were Deled's monks, farther out, standing guard at all the ways in and out of the town, were the soldiers. No one had stepped forward to defend the young man until finally, certain that he would be killed, a young woman had thrown herself between Deled's blows and the bloody man. "Please," she had cried.

Deled wiped the blood from his hands and had asked, "Tell me of the Anathema."

Anzar looked around as several second passed, certain that Deled would make an example of another of the people there. It was what he would have done, had done, not so long ago. Would Heron Jade Eyes learn of this? The man terrified him, more than Deled did, but Deled was here. Proximity made a difference.

One of the main reasons he maintained a low profile was the hope that Heron Jade Eyes would not learn of the part that Anzar played in all this.

"No point in asking them," someone said from the back of the crowd. The crowd shifted, opening a path for an old man. One of the monks moved to intercept him, but a motion from Deled made the monk step aside.

He moved out of the crowd, took several steps closer, then lowered his head politely, a little stiffly, towards Deled.

"Speak," Deled ordered.

"We had rats and lice that the Mask of Winters," the man turned his head and spat on the ground, "sent here when he still lived." The man paused, as if thinking, then continued. "They were always apt to cause trouble, some got ideas above their station when they realized their master had been killed."

"Go on," Deled growled.

Anzar shared that anger. To mention the Mask as the man did, was to call attention to the fact that the Anathema ended that threat.

"Most of the folks here fled, and the rest ran when the Wyld Mutants came. No one was here when the," he paused again, "Anathema came."

"Except for you," Anzar said, louder than he had intended, and many glanced towards him.

"Wasn't about to leave my inn," he explained.

Another damn inn keeper, Anzar thought.

"Then you can tell me of the Anathema."

"Gave me a letter in case anyone came looking for them." He reached into his short jacket and removed a piece of folded paper.

Deled reached out and took it, unfolding the paper, looking over what was written within. He frowned. "Ragara," he said.

Anzar knew he was being called and stepped towards the large man.

He pushed the letter towards Anzar.

Anzar took it and read. It was written in several languages, the hand that had written it neat and elegant.

'_You have come to this innocent town, seeking us, and no doubt have caused harm. Be aware that you will be judged for that. If you still seek me and mine, then come to the North, and know that your grave will likely be in the ice that will be more forgiving than I. Ask for us, we are not cowering, our presence will be known._

_ Before you leave, if you have caused these people any harm, make recompense._

_ Heron Jade Eyes, Servant of the Unconquered Sun._'

"North," Deled said once he had seen Anzar had finished the letter.

"It's not a trick," Anzar said with certainty and fear.

Deled looked about scowling. "Sarracen," he called to one of his monks, "look to his injuries," his gaze shifted to the man he had nearly killed. "Let all know the Dragons are truly merciful."

A young looking man with skin the colour of a young yew tree, went to side of the injured man and began treatment.

"We will need passage," Deled called loudly. "Fast ships to take us to northwards. You will be paid well and we will be gone."

The town's people immediately began offering passage on various ships.

"Can I have that back," the old man said.

Anzar looked towards him. "What?"

"The letter, for the next hunters who come here."

Anzar looked at the letter for a moment, then gave it back to the old man.

As the old man walked away Anzar made his way to where Sarracen used his medical charms to heal the injured man. He took a pouch of silver from his belt pouch and knelt down, placing it near. "For expenses while recovering," he said, then straightened and walked after Deled.

"We shouldn't go," he said, and regretted the words the moment they had left his mouth. However he remembered the army of the dead that had been led to the Spire, and how they had been destroyed by vast explosions. He did not know how Heron and Sparrow had arranged that, but it made it clear as to the danger about attacking the Solars where they were ready.

"Why?" Deled asked, turning a hard set face towards Anzar, his posture and tone of voice making it obvious that the reason better be good.

"It is what the Anathema wants. It is something the Anathema believes will serve their needs."

"They are arrogant and foolishly think they can stand against the power of the Dragons."

Anzar wondered if Deled had forgotten the defeat that the Bull of the North had handed the Tepet legions. No, unlikely that he would have forgotten, just refused to see the full truth of it. But that was not something that he could say.

"Still, it would be better to bring the Anathema to us," he said, and then, with a flash of inspiration, "to where their defeat might be seen by many as opposed to some lonely place in the North. To some place where their poisoned words might be taking root."

Deled stopped, a thoughtful pose. "Do you know how we might bring the Anathema to such a place?"

"There is a village called Vinleau, the Anathema who has taken the appearance of the Peleps girl, she…" what? Cared for the people there? No. "…believes it belongs to her. If the true teachings of the Dragons were to be brought there…"

"How sure are you of this?" Deled asked him.

How sure? He really had no idea, but he recalled how the children had wanted to protect Ivory, had obviously cared for her. If they had cared that much for her, than Ivory must also care for them. "I am positive."

"I will think about this," Deled told him.

Anzar nodded. He felt safer at the thought of Heron and the others coming to them, to a place where the Wyld Hunt might be better prepared. However, he really hoped that the anger of the Solars might be directed at Deled, and in the coming conflagration of anger, vengeance and justice, the Master of the Wyld Hunt would take the brunt of it.

Anzar thought that would be his best chance to escape.

* * *

The lands near the border of the Wyld were dangerous, populated by all kinds of strange creature, but profitable for those who knew them. Strange things grew and bred along the border, things that could be found no where else. Roses whose petals were a powerful aphrodisiac, mice whose flesh was as sweet as candy, grasses softer than silk and stronger than steel, among other things. The danger was, to many, commensurate to the profit that might be achieved.

The hunting party moved along that border, seeking out the willowy trees on which apple sized fruit grew. Most of the fruits were red, or green, some blue, all deadly poisonous, too toxic to even risk touching. However, on some of the trees would grow a single, black fruit. Carefully, to avoid touching the leaves or the other fruit, the hunters would pick such a prize, wrap it in gauze, and slide it into a satchel.

One of those hunters was looking at his find, smiling, when he heard the sound of something moving, deeper into the forest, and the Wyld. With sure movements he wrapped the fruit and stored it, then pulled his bow free, stringing it, putting an arrow to the nock.

He had come deeper into the forest than was wise, seeking the fruit, and he took careful steps back, bow ready.

From ahead of him was movement, a black figure charging from the thick green.

He fired his arrow. The black iron head was turned by metal armour and went flying off into the forest.

The armoured figure was on him, huge axe knocking his bow aside, and gauntlet of moaning, black steel grabbing him by his leather shirt, pulling him close to a helm of the same metal.

The speaker demanded something of him, if a harsh, hard voice, in a language he did not understand. Another angry demand, again, with words that still meant nothing to him. Then again, but with the more common tongue of trade used in the scavenger lands, "Where am I?"

His eyes wide, he wondered how to answer that question. Finally he said, "Three days east of Kajeth."

"Kajeth? Damn the Courtesan and the Lunar," she said, and then more in a language he did not understand.

She let her axe fall and opened the lower part of her skull shaped helm. Her mouth was full of long teeth and he managed a short, strangled scream before they tore open his throat.

BREAKBREAKBREAK

Cold Rain had left his safe house in Soul's Lost, for he had not trusted Whispers of the Dead and her new master. He had fled Stygia, and then the Underworld itself, exiting through a small, forgotten shadowland, in a saltwater swamp, near the country of An Teng.

He had servants with him, to look after the animals that pulled the wagon in which his Monstance and his 'mother' rode. When he could he sheltered in small shadowlands, or in places of death, and when he could not he hunted the living to drink their essence.

On a night when he had found an old graveyard in which to shelter, where he might sit amongst death and feel comforted, he had a visitor.

She walked out of the gloom, a lissome beauty in a robe of black feathers.

Cold Rain climbed to his feet, reaching for his scythe.

As the woman came closer he saw her clearer and knew who she was. The scythe shook in his hands.

"So the First and Forsaken Lion has sent for me," he said, his voice breaking.

She moved, so fast he could hardly see it, and was in front of him. Her slap knocked him from his feet, had him lying in the dirt.

"Do not presume I would serve the Lion as a petty messenger, or even an assassin. I have come looking for you, Cold Rain, for my own purposes."

Cold Rain looked up at the Deathlord called Princess Magnificent with Lips of Coral and Robes of Black Feathers, also called the Black Heron. She was in service to the First and Forsaken Lion, a punishment for a failure long before. Cold Rain had heard she was not a willing servant.

"And what would your own purposes be, my lady the Black Heron?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady and failing completely.

"On your feet," she ordered.

He got up slowly, cataloguing a number of small pains, but none serious.

She looked at him for several silent seconds. "I have need for a Death Knight," she said finally. "One whose loyalty, if not to me, is to none of the others."

He did not have to ask who those others were. Instead his question was, "And what is this need?"

She smiled and stepped closer to him. She truly was beautiful, though her head was too large and rounded for her body, and her haunting green eyes too large in her face. Odd things, but they only added to that otherworldly beauty. "I would have you go to the City of Chiaroscuro, I have interests that I must pursue there, but my last servant was recently defeated. Obviously I need a stronger representative."

"Defeated by who, or what?"

She smiled. "An Exalted, of course. Likely a powerful Terrestrial, or perhaps a Lunar who took an interest. The Nephwrack was in not shape to tell me much, and I destroyed it before it might compromise my interests."

There was a threat in that statement and Cold Rain doubted that refusal was an option. "And what would you have me do there?"

She smiled. "Not yet Cold Rain. You may think you are too far in, but the hook has not been set." She took a few steps away from him, looked him over. "You may run, and I will not follow, for I will not benefit unless you chose to help me. I ask you to think about it. I could be a powerful patron."

She looked about the graveyard, and then back at him, as if commenting on the state he had found himself in. "The Lion is a fool besotted with me." Her expression turned into a grimace of disgust that made her look quite ugly for a moment. "He does not look to closely at what I do, for fear of what he might find out. His resources are my resources, and they can be funnelled to you."

"It is an attractive offer," he said, not sure if it was.

"If you follow the coast, a day's walk from here, in a rocky bay, with two spires of stone at its mouth, you will find a ship. It will sail you to Chiaroscuro, should you chose to take up my interests. There is a man who will meet that ship, a necromancer of some skill. He will tell you what I seek to have done in the glass city."

"At which point, I am committed."

She nodded. "And I will not let you go until my business is complete."

"And how long might that take? Or is that something that the Necromancer will tell me, my Lady Black Heron." His tone was respectful, in case his question was impertinent.

She seemed to be in thought, a finger raised prettily to her chin. He wondered whether it was an affectation or a true habit, perhaps one from a life long ago. "A year I would think, if you apply yourself to the task."

"I will consider your kind offer," he told her, bowing.

"Please do. I leave you to your thoughts." She turned her back on him and walked away, slipping into the gloom as she had appeared.

Cold rain sat heavily on the ground, putting his palm to forehead. "What to do?" he asked, his voice soft and hardly carrying.

* * *

"Gods and dragons damn you all to Lethe," Red snarled, her dire lance thrusting out, spearing the dead abomination through its chest.

The huge creature stumbled, stunned, and around Red rushed mortal warriors, their weapons covered in prayer strips, who hacked at the giant of rotting flesh and blackened bone.

Red pulled her lance from the creature as it collapsed, falling under the slashing and hacking blades of the soldiers. She looked around, spotted Blue, surrounded by a shimmering, fiery light, wading in amongst the dead of Marama's Fell, her own dire lance of blue jade stabbing out with seemingly wild sweeps that felled her enemies.

Looking around, satisfied that the battlefield around her was, for the moment, subdued, Red took off a run to join her younger sister.

She reached Blue's side in time to add her red jade dire lance to Blue's blow, destroying another of the undead giants.

"How much are the Syndics paying for this?" Red asked Blue as they took up a stance, back to back.

"An obscene amount, as in we can pay for some very obscene things in the tea houses."

"Assuming we live," Red replied, watching as ghosts approached them. She and Blue had made themselves very obvious targets, with their animas flaring, and the halos of protective lights that burned around them.

"Course we're going to live."

"Kyzvoi," Red told Blue, spotting the large ghosts.

"Think Achiba is with them?"

"Think of what the Syndics would pay were we to end that one," Red laughed. "We won't see him today, but these have the look of his dogs."

"Then let's send him a message neesan." Blue leapt at one of the kyzvoi ghosts. Red followed suit. Their dire lances plunged into the bodies of powerful ghosts.

The two speared ghosts burst into flame, and around the two women the other ghost where suddenly surrounded by white, ghostly flames.

"In the name of the dragons," Blue called out.

"And in the name of the gods," Red answered.

The ghostly, white flames burst golden, and the ghosts screamed in pain, falling destroyed.

Red and Blue whipped their spears free of the dead and stepped away, once more back to back. No enemy rose up to engage them. Farther afield the soldiers they led were clearing the last of the dead.

"The dead will be quiet for a while."

"Guess what I heard neesan?"

Red smiled. "What news did Frog have to tell you?"

"He said the Sparrow Hawk is in the north."

"Did he say where?"

"He does not know yet, but he thinks she might be close to the Halsanti ."

"I hope you did not pay him too much for that information."

Blue laughed. "Don't worry, we need not deprive ourselves of any of our enjoyment."

"Good," Red said, and lowered her spear. "Dragons I could use a bath."


	9. The Caretaker and the Thorn

**The Caretaker and the Thorn**

* * *

Lightning rode in the Razor's cargo hold, Nihilistic Courtesan across from her. They had been forbidden by Darken Gray from riding in the passenger section where Ivory was. Lightning did not think that Courtesan offered a real threat towards Ivory at the moment, but respected the god's request.

The death knight had once more been clothed in a manner similar to when Lightning has first seen her. Black silk and lace, skirt puffed out by yards and yards of petticoats. Such clothing seemed to make her more comfortable.

The outfit had been made by Ivory, under Darken Gray's tutelage. Apparently the ability to design and make clothing had some value.

Darken Gray had also had Ivory work restraints into the clothing, both subtle and overt, all remarkably durable; some better suited to providing pleasure to the one restrained. When Lightning had commented on that the god had simply told her that there were times when a dynast needed to know things like that. Lightning supposed she had things to learn about the proper education of a young dynast, but she was not certain if she wanted to.

The quality of the restraints seemed to show in the times when Courtesan tried to move beyond their limits and was brought up short, surprised every time, as if she had forgotten them.

Courtesan had closed her eyes, kneeling on the floor, leaning against a bulkhead. She was not asleep. Probably she was just avoiding the need to talk, or having acknowledge Lightning. It was easier that way. When they talked, infrequent as it was, it was always an uncomfortable affair.

There was a sound, like something cracking, but before Lightning could give it any consideration Courtesan suddenly opened her eyes and gasped.

Shifting up onto her feet, in a ready crouch, Lightning asked, "What is it?" She was ready for violence, if that was what Courtesan planned. She felt the Razor slow and adjusted her weight to maintain her balance.

"The Whispers," Courtesan said, expression open with surprise, "they are gone. There is nothing."

Lightning waited a moment, watching Courtesan, then she reached out and keyed the intercom. "Sparrow, what is happening?"

After a moment Sparrow replied over the intercom, "We're approaching the tower, should be landing soon."

"Ivory," Lightning said, louder.

"What is it?" Her voice sounded distant, and she was shouting.

"That barrier your spoke of, it can keep all ghosts out?"

"Yes."

"Thank you," Lightning said, softer, and then turned off the intercom. She looked at Courtesan. "It appears you are in one place where the dead hold no sway."

"There is no place like that," Courtesan said, but her eyes were wide, with fear or wonder Lightning did not know.

The Razor slowed more, and Lightning had to work to keep her balance and yet remain in a ready state. Courtesan continued to lean against the bulkhead, for the moment her thoughts obviously on something else.

Then the ship was down, settling onto its landing gear.

Lightning gathered up some of the gear from the hold, and then on a whim grabbed the case that held Courtesan's power bow. She got the death knight to her feet and was ready when the cargo bay door was opened by Sparrow. "So, why ask about the barrier?" Sparrow asked.

"She says she can no longer hear her dead masters."

"But she passed through it," Sparrow said as she reached up and took Courtesan's elbow, to help her down. The thin chain that bound her ankles made the step down difficult for the hobbled Death Knight.

"I think we knew she was not a ghost. Watch her."

Lightning walked around the Razor, her gaze shifting to the tower. It sat upon a series of concentric circles, that were like stairs that led up to the white stone. It was tall, and she could just make out a set of large, double doors. She looked away, towards Ivory, who stood with the others.

"Ghosts can't enter here."

"That's right."

"Just hungry ghosts within," Heron said.

"Hungry ghost aren't proper ghosts, they don't count." Ivory sounded a little defensive. "And they were already inside."

Lightning placed the bow case on the ground. "What about soulsteel?"

"Not sure," Ivory said, stepping closer.

Lightning popped the catches and flipped open the case. The steel of the bow had turned dull, and there were small cracks in the metal.

Ivory knelt down and looked at it. "Tore the ghosts right out, ruined it," she said sadly.

Heron moved close. "So no ghosts can enter here, and while death knights may, any soulsteel they will bring would be destroyed. I think I can understand why these Neverborn would see Ivory as a threat."

Lightning closed the case on the ruined bow.

"Could you replicate this effect?" Dreaming Blue asked Ivory.

"Probably," Ivory said. "Maybe."

"Bring Courtesan," Lightning called out. "Let's do what we came here for."

Lightning took the steps three at a time and in a moment reached the top one. She paused, looking down at a patten of gold, silver and jade, similar to what marked the doors. She reached out and pushed one of the portals.

They did not move.

"I'll open them," Ivory said, running up the stairs.

"Hold," Darken Gray said, grasping Ivory's shoulder. "What protection will we find within?"

"There was a demon," Ivory said. "Well, lots, progeny of Darengest, but Darengest was here the last time."

"Darengest?" Dreaming Blue and Darken Gray spoke almost in unison.

"She's gone now. Dismissed," Ivory told them.

Darken Gray released her hold on Ivory. Ivory continued to the doors and, with the light of her caste mark, unlocked them. The doors opened on a large chamber a single door on the far wall, a sarcophagus in the middle of the room. It was dark, for the sun was still high up and did not shine directly through the doors. Ivory walked in confidently, and from the bag she carried she took out a light rod that lit up the room.

The others followed in behind them. Lightning paused to look down at the sarcophagus, and the relief carving of a beautiful woman.

Ivory had passed her and stood near the other door.

"You don't know what is beyond that door, do you," Heron said.

"No," Ivory said.

"Sparrow, we'll take point," Heron said. "Hu can watch Ivory, Lightning can keep on eye on Courtesan."

"I am pretty sure that we will be okay," Ivory said as she turned her caste mark to the door and unlocked it.

* * *

Once the door had opened Heron waited for Sparrow to take the lead, then followed up behind her. He had been curious as to what had lain behind the door, but that moment was not the best to be satisfying his curiosity, so he focused on the immediate area around the door.

Sparrow had already moved several steps farther into the room, her gaze shifting left and right, up and down, trusting Heron to watch her back.

"Looks clear," she said.

"Ivory?"

"I think it should be safe."

A voice, deceptively soft, said, "I am the Caretaker of this place. My Twilight has returned."

"Ivory?"

"Caretaker, I don't see it as being bad." He heard her step beyond the door.

"With pleasure I recognize you Twilight," the Caretaker said. "Please inform me of how you wish to be addressed."

"My name is is Ivory. Peleps Ivory."

"Weclome Lady Peleps."

"No," Heron heard Darken Gray say. "Lady is not an appropriate title." No surprise that the governess would say something like that.

"She's probably right," Ivory said, regretfully. "Call me Ivory."

"Very well Ivory. Standard protocols are in place. You have with you two other Solar Exalts, one Lunar Exalt, One Sidereal Exalt, two gods, and an unknown. Will scan exterior of crater momentarily. Shall I upgrade to threat protocol and kill the Sidereal?"

"Kill the Sidereal?" Dreaming Blue seemed surprised.

"No," Ivory said. She paused, humming softly. "Can I tell you who my guests are and who you should keep an eye on?"

Heron wondered exactly what the Caretaker was, and while Ivory had entered into what seemed a pleasant enough conversation with it, he was watching, not quite ready to relax.

"Of course Ivory," the Caretaker replied, to Heron's ears almost sounding miffed.

"Then Heron and Sparrow, the Solars, uh, Sparrow is in the lead, are guests. Both gods Hu and Darken Gray... Hu is the tiger, are guests. The Lunar, Lightning, is a guest. The unknown in a prisoner, her name is Courtesan. The Sidereal is called Dreaming Blue, she's... um, well..."

"Might I suggest you define her as an unproven threat?" the Caretaker said. "She will be given limited guest privileges, until she is a proven threat, at which point threat protocols come on line."

"That sound good. Dreaming Blue is an unproven threat."

"Status confirmed. Welcome to the White Thorn. I am afraid that there has been some degradation in manse's structure and function over the centuries. I was in a hibernation state and that limited the self repair systems. Are there systems you need immediately Ivory?"

"I need to examine the essence flows and shard structure of Courtesan."

"The Medical facilities are fully operational. Please follow the sprite."

A small ball of light blossomed into existence not too far in front of them, bobbed in the air, floated some distance away and then stopped.

"The sprite I take it," Sparrow said.

"Ivory," Darken Gray said, "do you remember this Caretaker?"

Hu growled. Heron looked back to see Ivory looking between the two before she said, "It won't hurt us. Let's go."

He suspected that Hu's advice had won the day, and he was not certain how he felt about that.

"So we follow the sprite," Sparrow said as she started forward.

Decision made Heron went next, behind him Hu and Darken Grey watched over Ivory as Lightning watched over Courtesan.

The room was large, sparse, but beautiful, with gold inlay in the walls; a central staircase led up to the next level. Heron followed Sparrow up those stairs, into the next level. He was struck be a feeling that the interior of the manse was perhaps larger than the exterior could explain. Certainly the tower was large, and it might just be clever design creating an illusion of space, but he would not bet on it.

They passed through several workrooms where tools still hung in racks, most in excellent condition, some having succumbed to time's corrosive effects. Through arches he saw a dining room, grand in its construction, with a huge chandelier of crystal and gold hanging over what he thought was once a wooden table, and now gone to collapse and ruin.

Another set of stairs took them to a smaller area, through a door that Ivory unlocked with her caste mark, into what looked like a hospital, though Heron had never seen such medical devices before.

The sprite drifted through the area, towards an open door of a brightly lit room.

"This is the essence research chamber," the Caretaker announced as soon as Ivory crossed the threshold. "All systems are powered up and ready for you Ivory."

Heron directed Ivory to the far side of the room, away from the door and Courtesan who followed. One side of the room contained a block of white jade, about four feet by eight feet on the top, probably four feet high. Its exterior and top were covered by gold and silver and green jade inlay, none of which he suspected was decoration.

Around the walls were various cabinets and control panels. On the ceiling were nodules, half circles of white and red and blue jade.

"On the altar?" Lightning asked.

"Examination table," Ivory said from where she looked at the controls. The voice of the Caretaker was soft as it spoke in hushed tones to Ivory.

"It looks like an altar," Heron said, and hoped Courtesan did not think of sacrifices. The death knight had been co-operative so far, and he did not want to have to fight her now.

At Lightning's guidance, and with her help, she got on the table, and then lay back.

The silver, moonsilver, on the table rose up from the channels on the table and flowed over her wrists and ankles, another steam across her hips, securing her to the table top.

"Is this necessary?" Courtesan asked, giving her wrist a gentle tug. She sounded quite composed, all things considered.

"The process requires you remain still," the Caretaker said, "and you are a prisoner."

"Are we ready to go?" Lightning asked.

"Caretaker, give me a model to work with," Ivory said.

Courtesan gasped as from her body rose another, ghost like, Courtesan, floating in the air above her.

"What in the Wyld is that?" Lightning asked, taking a step back from the table.

* * *

"It's an image, made of essence," Ivory said as she moved into the part of the room opposite to the examination table. Her caste mark had grown brighter as she powered the equipment with her own essence.

Everyone seemed to accept that answer, for there were no more questions. Ivory made a beckoning gesture with her fingers and the image floated over to her. "Are there any foreign bodies with in her?" Ivory asked.

"None," the Caretaker answered.

"Remove skin, muscle and bone," Ivory said, making a pulling gesture with her hand.

The image was just organs, arteries and veins, floating in the shape or a person. She looked about, finger gestures caused parts of the image to grow larger as the rest faded out, giving Ivory closeups of what she wanted to look for.

"What are you doing?" Lightning asked.

"Just making sure there is nothin' hiding inside."

"That was what the Caretaker told you."

"Excuse me for wanting to see for myself," she said tartly.

"Ivory," Darken Gray said in warning.

Ivory did not respond to that, instead saying, "Remove all organic matter, display essence flows."

The complex arrangement of vessels and organs faded away, leaving an equally complex pattern of black lines that looked like trapped smoke. Courtesan let out a sharp gasp.

"Essence feedback can cause some discomfort, but no real damage is done," the Caretaker announced before anyone asked.

"Some discomfort?" Courtesan said softly between deep breaths.

Ivory ignored her as she used sweeping gestures of her hand to search the image, her caste mark grew brighter on her forehead. She stooped and a moment later expanded a specific area, revealing a void. "What's there?"

"Unable to display," The Caretaker explained. "There is no metaphor available."

Ivory reached up to turn the image back and forth, looking at the void from all angles, as if something might appear. Courtesan occasionally made a sound of discomfort, but Ivory did not concern herself with that.

"Can you put a Devonian filter on this?" Ivory asked as she fed more essence into the system.

The black lines suddenly changed to white and the void became a sphere of light. Ivory wiped at her forehead with the sleeve of her blouse and stared at the image for several seconds. "Good."

"What a Devonian filter?" Sparrow asked.

"A school of sorcery," Ivory told her. "Give me a necromantic filter."

"Necromancy of any sort is not allowed within the area controlled by the manse," the Caretaker said.

"Countermand."

"Impossible."

Ivory bit at her lower lip. "We'll try a Salinan filter then."

The lines of essence grew less distinct, but the sphere began to randomly change shape in a series of slow pulses.

Courtesan gasped with each pulse.

Ivory tried different filters, tried combinations of them, mixing different schools, asking for lenses. The Caretaker gave her everything she requested, as long as Ivory kept essence flowing into the device. Sometimes Courtesan would cry out in pain, making Ivory flinch slightly.

The golden light of her anima had become a bonfire around her, and still she had not found a solution. She was breathing heavily, like she had run a great distance, and her clothing stuck to her with sweat.

"Ivory, you have to stop," Darken Gray said.

"Not yet, I almost have it. What's the oldest school of sorcery we have available?"

"I have records of the Lintha practices of Primordial worship, as well as information on Aluan spirt beckoning."

"Can you create a filter based on the Aluan?"

"Of course."

"Please do so."

Ivory's anima went iconic, the circles of scrolls surrounding her. Courtesan screamed. The shape that had not been defined changed, to a golden rose surrounded by a cage of black thorns.

"Ah," Ivory said.

Behind her she heard Lightning saying something, but she was not listening, her heart was beating loud in her ears.

She reached out towards the rose, as if to grasp it, but suddenly pulled her hand back, a small drop of blood on her finger.

Courtesan screamed again.

"Enough," Ivory said, staring at the drop of blood on her finger. "Caretaker, shut it down."

The image hanging in the air disappeared.

"I thought that was just an image," Lightning said.

Ivory was looking at the blood on her finger. "It was."

"Then why..."

"Sometimes metaphor hurts."

Darken Gray stood in front of her. She took Ivory's hand in hers and then lowered her head, putting Ivory's injured finger in her mouth, gently sucking on it.

"No poisons or contaminants," she said once she took the finger from her mouth.

Ivory looked over her shoulder at the others. Lightning stood over Courtesan, the Death Knigh looking to be as wasted as Ivory felt. "Caretaker, do we have," she paused in thought, "a stasis chamber that we can put her in?"

"Stasis chamber?" Lightning asked at the same time the Caretaker replied "Yes."

"It is like sleep," Ivory said, "but not. Really, it just freezes someone in time. They don't dream or anything."

"I think she might like that," Lightning said after a moment.

Darken Gray had taken a cotton strip from somewhere and was wrapping Ivory's finger. "The Caretaker can show you where the chamber is, and will help you put her into it," Ivory said.

"Right." Lightning gathered up Courtesan's limp body from the table, the restraints releasing her.

As Darken Gray finished off dressing the small wound Heron asked, "What have we learned?"

"I need some time to think about it," Ivory told him. "A few hours."

Heron nodded. "Then Sparrow and I can unload some supplies from the Razor, unless you have food here?" He looked up, though he had no idea where the caretaker really was.

"I am afraid that maintaining such supplies would have been a waste of power. Clean water and heat is available," the Caretaker told him.

"We have a library here, right?" Ivory asked.

"Of course," the Caretaker said. When ever it said 'of course' Ivory felt there was a judgement in the tone.

"Show me to it." She looked over at the Sidereal who stood off to the side of the room. "Will you come with me Dreaming Blue?"

Dreaming Blue nodded after a moment. "Yes."

* * *

"So there are angry ghosts out there?" Sparrow said, staring out at the forest.

"Not as many as there used to be," Heron said from within the Razor, "but yes." He leaned out of the hatch and handed Sparrow down a duffle bag. She took it and placed it with two other similar bags.

"If Ivory ever plans to make more use of this place she will have to deal with them."

Heron shifted back into the Razor to retrieve another bag of supplies. "As long as she is going to stay in the tower I don't think she needs to care."

She looked up towards Heron, who was perched on the edge of the hatchway, leaning into the ship, found herself staring up at his slim legs and bottom. It was, she thought, a pleasant view, much better than looking at a forest full of ghosts.

Heron straightened, stood at the top of the hatch, looking down at her.

Sparrow felt her cheeks grow warm, but not terribly so. It was not the first time she had been caught staring at an attractive man's backside.

Heron smiled and handed the last bag down. He reached in and pulled the hatch shut, then locked it. "We should make sure the Razor is properly sealed up." He slid smoothly down the ladder. "The ghosts aren't going to be able to do anything destructive unless they could get inside." He grabbed the ladder and pushed it up until it locked smoothly and seamlessly with the hull.

They walked around the Razor, testing hatches to make sure she was secured. Sparrow was a bit distracted, most of the time focused on Heron. This was one of the few times they had been alone in a relatively peaceful situation since they had first met.

"Are you attracted to me?" she asked him as he checked the last hatch.

Heron turned towards her, looked at her for a few seconds. "Do you mean would I be attracted to you if there was not a bond between the power we have inherited?"

"Yes, no, both."

Heron looked at her thoughtfully. "You are attractive, smart, strong enough that you could captain an airship even before you were chosen. Had we met, I think I would have found you," he paused, "interesting. Where that interest would lead, who knows."

He did not ask if she were attracted to him, but Sparrow felt he deserved an answer. "I think I would have thought you too pretty, too perfect, once I found out your gender. I think I would have chosen not to take a chance." She laughed. "I might have fantasized about you afterwards."

Heron smiled, perhaps a little sadly. "I have heard that before."

Sparrow, feeling daring at the moment, took a step forward, gently ran her fingers down his shoulder, let her fingers run through his long, black hair that hung freely down his back. "I want more than just a fantasy," she said, surprising herself. "It doesn't matter if these feelings had their start in some other person's life, they've grown to something more for me."

Heron did not move, as if he understood the fine balance that Sparrow was trying to maintain. This closeness, it still scared her, even as she desired it. She took a half step forward, tilted her head up, raised her heels, and brushed her lips across his.

His lips, his face, were softer and smoother than any man's she had ever kissed before, there was a subtle hint of some perfume or cologne about him. For all that prettiness and softness, she knew his core was like folded metal; hard and flexible.

Her hand lifted rom his arm, she placed her palm on his chest, drew it down across the silk tunic he wore, feeling the lean muscle underneath.

She wanted more, but was not ready for it, and she would be a tease to take it further. She stepped back.

Heron only smiled at her, as if to let her know he would let her set the pace.

"Thank you," she told him.

"Let's get things into the tower. We still have a few hours before the sun goes down, we can take a look around the perimeter just to be sure angry ghosts are the only problem we need to worry about."

"Good idea," Sparrow said, happy to move things back to business. For the moment.

* * *

"The chamber is prepared, please put the prisoner inside."

Lightning took the still senseless Courtesan and placed her into the chamber. It looked a little like an upright coffin, though it was made of clear crystal, and the soft padding of the interior was more like some wonderful bed that moulded itself to the occupant.

"What happens if she is left here?" Lightning asked.

"The chamber uses little power. There is no reason I cannot keep her in stasis for as long as the manse stands," the Caretaker answered.

"Just like time stands still?"

"Exactly. Please step back while I close the chamber."

Lightning moved back. The top of the chamber swung down to seal Courtesan in. There was a soft flash of golden light within, and soft, blue lights lit up long the sides.

"She is in stasis," the Caretaker said.

Lightning stepped close to the chamber, looked at the motionless Courtesan within. "Do you know anything about the bond between Solars and Lunars?"

"I have a great deal of written information about the nature of the bond, and I was witness to the relationship between the Twilight Lady who ruled here and her Lunar Consort."

"What was that relationship like?"

"Distant. The Lady wanted a mate to give her strong children and had little time for the Consort beyond that."

"But not all relationships were like that?"

"No."

Lightning thought about Redigost and what he had said about the Solar who had once held Sparrow's shard. "Really, keeping her on ice forever has a certain appeal."

The Caretaker did not answer.

* * *

The library seemed more a solarium, with what seemed like windows that illuminated the room with a light like sunlight.

Ivory was looking at the few bookshelves, and the books within them. "These all need to be repaired," she said.

"Copies of those books and the majority of the library are kept within my memory," the Caretaker said.

"How does that work?" Ivory asked.

"I transfer the contents of any required book to one of the many crystal readers. The readers can be used anywhere in the tower. This is less a library and more a reading room."

"Do you have every book from the first age?" Dreaming Blue asked from the centre of the room.

"No. I have books that directly related to the Twilight Lady's interests and needs."

"How many books?" Ivory asked.

"Six million, four hundred and sixty thousand, three hundred and twenty seven. Those include essays and other similar documents that might not be considered true books."

Ivory smiled and then looked at Dreaming Blue. "Tell the Caretaker and I about the Abyssals. Feel free to repeat anything you might have already told me." Ivory walked over to a small couch, gave it a shake, then took a seat. There was a soft cracking sound, but the couch held.

Hu, who had stood near the windows, walked over to where Ivory sat and lay down on the floor near her.

Dreaming Blue tested a few other seats and found them lacking, weak with age, but the chair behind the desk and the desk itself seemed solid enough. She took a seat, the windows behind her. She took a moment to suppose that desk, library and manse were hers and what she might do with them, then pushed those thoughts aside as unproductive and a little envy making.

"There were at least nine Deathlords who claimed dominion over the Underworld, but you destroyed the Mask of Winters and apparently the one called Eye of Seven Despairs was killed by his own servants. Most of Creation did not know of their existence, until the Mask of Winters made his play, but they schemed for Creation's destruction."

Dreaming Blue paused, waiting to see if Ivory would ask any questions. When it became clear that she was willing to listen the Sidereal continued. "It was soon after we realized that the Solars had returned that we learned that the Deathlords had new servants. Abyssals. Five castes, with blood marks that matched those of the Solars. They were more powerful than the servants that the Deathlords had fielded in the past, significantly more effective. The fall of Thorns was an example."

"How many Sidereals really believe that the Abyssals are corrupted Solars?"

Dreaming Blue wondered at the question, and gave it some thought before answering. "Most of Saturn's I would think, as for the others, it would depend on how much study they gave them. Most suspect. Some might not want to believe."

Ivory leaned forward, the couch beneath her cracked and sagged slightly. "Why don't they want to believe?"

Dreaming Blue blinked, almost swore aloud. The child had played her.

"That is not important," she said.

"Might it be guilt?" Ivory asked.

"I am not going to answer that question with supposition."

Ivory smiled, as if she had the answer she wanted. "Caretaker, do you have anything that correlates with what she has told us?"

"The Black Mirror."

"Tell me about it," Ivory said.

"The nature of the artifact was highly classified."

The smile on Ivory's face seemed out of place on a child. "Which the previous holder of my shard should not have known about."

The Caretaker was silent.

"You can tell me later," Ivory said, which annoyed Dreaming Blue. "There is precedent for the concept of a corrupted Solar?"

"Yes."

"Permanent?"

"No."

Ivory nodded and jumped to her feet. The couch, pushed past its limits, collapsed. "We can fix Courtesan," she said.

Dreaming Blue wanted to know how, but only nodded, not certain if Ivory even had an answer yet.

* * *

There are of course some nods to Robert Downey's Iron Man in here.

Music Ideas

White Lightning by Danny Michelle for Lightning and Courtesan

Alice by Aviril Lavigne for Ivory

I am always happy to hear constructive criticism. The earlier I learn of issues the easier it is to address them. And if you know anyone who might like this story, let them know, the mature rating is probably keeping some people from finding it.


	10. The Story of Ozaki the Wolf

**The Story of Ozaki the Wolf**

* * *

Ivory had locked herself into the library to do some research, so she said, leaving everyone else to wait. They had prepared a meal from the supplies they had brought in and afterwards Heron had taken some time to look at the guest room that had been provided. While the furniture had deteriorated to the point where most of it was unusable, the bathroom's porcelain and adamant construction had stood against time.

The shower he had allowed himself was long and hot, the water clean.

Afterwards he had had taken the time to brush and comb out his hair, running conditioning oils through it, a task in itself, before dressing.

When he went to the library he found the door open. Lightning was already there, sitting on the floor, her back against a wall, while Ivory sat the room's desk, dwarfed by its proportions, a crystal reader in her hand. Hu lay in front of the desk, looking as if he were about to fall asleep.

"Where's everyone else?" Heron asked.

"Darken Gray has gone to get Sparrow and Dreaming Blue," Lightning said. "They should be here soon. You cleaned up."

"I don't often get a chance to take a shower."

"I suppose."

He walked over to Lightning, lowered his voice, "You spent your time staring at Courtesan."

Lightning did not deny, simply shifted and shrugged her shoulders.

There was a sound of something sliding over the floor, and the sharp reports of metal banging. Heron looked away from Lightning, saw Hu already on his feet, padding towards the door. He followed, looked as well, saw Darken Gray and the others approaching, carrying, or dragging, several chairs and a bench, made of adamant, or some other long lasting material.

He stepped out to lend a hand and soon they had a place to sit for everyone, except Hu of course. Ivory put the crystal reader into a rack near the desk and pulled the seat around, a wheeled, heavy chair, that creaked softly when she climbed back into it.

"The changes made to the exaltation to create and Abyssal can be undone," Ivory told them.

"How?" Lightning asked.

"I don't know."

"You said..." Lightning began.

"I didn't say that I could undo it," Ivory interrupted. "Yet at least," she added, seeming to become aware of the hardening of Lightning's gaze. "It would take me decades of research to get to the point where I could try it."

Lightning waved her hand. "What about everything in here?"

Dreaming Blue spoke. "Researching exaltations was considered to be in bad taste at the very least. It was considered something of a blasphemy in the First Age, as they were gifts from the gods."

"Right," Ivory said. "Not to say that they didn't do it, just that they didn't write much about it. Least not for public consump'n."

"Consumption," Darken Gray said, pronouncing the word clearly.

"I don't think we have decades."

"Yeah, probably not. So we need to find someone who already knows it all."

"Sidereals?" Sparrow asked.

"Unlikely," Dreaming Blue answered and Ivory said, "Nope." At nearly the same time.

"Let's not play a guessing game," Lightning said, almost growling.

"There are three I can name," Ivory said. "The Neverborn could do it if they chose, which they wouldn't. That leaves Authocthon or the Unconquered Sun."

"Authocthon?"

"He helped to make the exaltations," Ivory said.

"He has also been missing from Creation for a very long time. You will find nothing of value pursuing that avenue," Dreaming Blue told her.

"So that leaves the Unconquered Sun."

"You might as well try to find Autochthon, or convince the Neverborns to help you then," Dreaming Blue told Ivory, perhaps a bit more scorn in her tone than was really deserved.

"Why?" Heron, Ivory and Lightning asked at nearly the the same time.

Dreaming Blue looked suddenly ill at ease to be under such scrutiny. Heron wondered if she had not meant to speak.

"It has been a very long time since the Unconquered Sun has left the Jade Pleasure Dome," she said. "And there is no reason to expect he will leave in the decades you'd need to study this."

"So we just go in the Jade Pleasure Dome and talk to him," Ivory said.

Heron shifted his gaze towards both Hu and Darken Gray even as he said, "No Exalt is allowed within the Jade Pleasure Dome. Ever."

"How did you know that?" Dreaming Blue asked him.

"I know many things."

"He's got to come out sometime," Ivory said.

"No." Dreaming Blue turned her attention back to Ivory.

"What if you stood outside of it calling his name?"

"You would be part of a crowd," Dreaming Blue told her snidely.

"Sent him a letter?"

"There are departments dedicated to cataloguing the unanswered correspondence that has been sent to the Incarnae."

Ivory frowned. "How can that even work?"

"The departments and bureaucracies that were designed and implemented are very efficient," Dreaming Blue told her. "It all functions without direct oversight."

"So the Unconquered Sun just doesn't leave?"

Dreaming Blue nodded.

"Surely he must get bored," Sparrow said.

Heron was still watching Hu and Darken Gray, furtive glances, to measure their body language, the small tells that both gods had and probably did not know.

"Apparently not," Dreaming Blue answered Sparrow.

"Who else can we go to? Who else will know what you need?" Lightning stood and came to loom over Ivory.

Ivory shifted back in her chair. "I'm... I'm not sure," she stammered. "Maybe the other Incarnae."

"Who probably play these games as well." Lightning looked over at Dreaming Blue.

"Yes, though Luna and the Maidens do exit, from time to time."

Lightning returned her gaze to Ivory. "Would they understand a Solar exaltation as well as the Unconquered Sun? Assuming we could even speak to them?"

"I don't know."

Lightning turned away from Ivory, walking back to her seat. "Hopeless."

Ivory jumped from her chair. She looked angry. "Well if we need the Unconquered Sun we can..."

"Enough," Heron said, his voice loud and carrying and cutting Ivory off.

Everyone in the room stared at him.

"Dreaming Blue, you may leave. The gods as well."

"What?"

"As you wish," Darken Gray said. "Ivory, please behave."

Hu got to his feet, looked towards Ivory, and then padded from the room.

Heron looked at Dreaming Blue, then the door. "Please."

"Very well," she said, turning sharply, almost tripping, then stalking from the room.

Heron walked to the door and closed it. "I don't want anyone listening to us."

"Caretaker, can you ensure we have privacy."

"Of course Ivory."

"I want the Caretaker gone as well."

"Why?" Ivory asked.

"I do. Is it possible?"

"Caretaker?"

"It is possible. I can cut this room off from my awareness. I would rather not." Something in that tone suggesting distress,

Ivory looked to Heron, eyes entreating.

"I want complete privacy."

Ivory nodded. "Please Caretaker."

"Very well. You will have to exit this room to request my attention." It paused. "Please be as quick as you can, I do not like being unaware of any part of the manse."

"Thank you," Ivory said. She looked at Heron. "Satisfied?" There was a hint of bitterness in her tone, of a child denied.

Heron ignored the bitterness and said, "Caretaker?"

There was no answer.

"We will have to assume we can trust the Caretaker to its word." He walked over to Ivory, standing above her in the same manner that Lightning had. "Now, what stupid thing were you about to say before I interrupted you?"

Ivory looked shocked, and angry. "Stupid?"

"Stupid. What was it?" He leaned forward.

Ivory shifted back in her chair. "Nothing."

"Ivory." He raised his voice.

"Heron, what are you doing?" Sparrow asked, she had got from her chair and moved closer, as if ready to stop Heron.

He did not answer her, his gaze fixed on Ivory. "You were about to say something along the lines of destroying the games, kicking over the board, that sort of thing, were you not?"

She frowned, looking angry, petulant. "So. Why not?"

Heron straightened, sighed louder than he intended. "Your governess is the goddess of spanking and you still seem intent on seeking to anger the adults."

"She's the goddess of Corporal Punishment," Ivory said defensively.

"Why don't we just knock over the board?" Sparrow asked.

Heron looked towards her. The surprise he felt must have shown on his face.

"I am not saying that we do it, I just need to know why we don't."

Heron looked around, Sparrow and Lightning obviously curious, Ivory pouting (though he supposed it was unfair to think of it like that). He returned to his seat. "Were you watching Hu or Darken Gray?"

It was a question that seemed to catch them all off guard, for none of them answered in the positive.

"I was, and both were disturbed when we started talking about the games, and most of their concern was directed at Ivory."

"Why?" Lightning asked him.

"Because they both know her well enough to guess where her thoughts might go, and that she might voice them worried, maybe even scared them."

"In case Dreaming Blue found out?" Sparrow asked.

"Did you see how fast they left? It was in case they found out."

More surprise from all of them, then thoughtful looks.

"I know only a little about the Games of Divinity," he said, carefully, slowly. "That is the way that I think is the best, but there are those who believe that the gods chose to lead a revolt against the Primordials so as to get control of those games. Assuming that there is any truth in that belief, how do you think they would react to the news an Exalted was considering damaging them?"

The anger seemed to leave Ivory, and she had the decency to looked chagrinned. "Oh," she said, and then, "but I didn't know."

"More reason for you not to speak of it then," he told her.

"Ivory is right then," Lightning said, "if we want an audience with the Unconquered Sun, the game must stop."

"They would not thank us for that. They would kill us, possibly anyone we ever cared for, and anyone they ever cared for, and so on, until Creation was a Charnel house."

"Then what do we do?" It was Sparrow who asked.

Heron steepled his hands, and put them in front of his face, as if praying. "Have you ever heard the stories of Ozaki the Wolf?"

"No," Sparrow said, and neither Lightning nor Ivory voiced an opinion.

"He's a folk hero of sorts, from the Scavenger Lands. Ozaki the Wolf, a hero who took wealth from the greedy, and shared some of it with the poor. He tweaked the noses of the people in power, in the ways that the common folk could only dream of. There are probably hundreds of stories about him, or someone similar enough that their story could become Ozaki's."

Heron lowered his hands, leaned back. "The stories usually end with Ozaki taking whatever riches his last adventure left him with and going to gamble. Then the next story would start with him having gambled away his wealth and setting out on a new adventure.

"However, there is a story, that tells how members of the Guild, and others who had suffered at Ozaki's hands, sought to end his threat. They had tried assassins and other means of violence, but Ozaki was said to be a powerful warrior and master strategist, and none of those means had worked. This time a clever Guild factor suggested another way to deal with the collective thorn in their sides.

"Ozaki the Wolf was of no problem when he gambled, for he never left the casinos and other gaming houses. So, this factor suggested that they keep him there. It did not take much, a small bag of silver when Ozaki would have otherwise been bust, to keep him in the game. And he was a skilled enough gambler, though one who had never learned to walk away from the table, that only a small bag at a time was ever needed.

"Months would pass, with Ozaki never coming from the casino, and those that had been his targets were left to go about their business unmolested. It was at this time one of his daughters saw what the Guild was up to, and she planned to save her father from himself.

"Of course when she went into the casino and tried to talk to him he would not listen, and she could not stop the Guild from keeping the games going. She tried several strategies to get her father away from games, but none of them worked. Finally she went in search of Plentimon, the god of gambling."

Heron paused, wishing he had a glass of water. The others were patient, waiting, Ivory leaning forward near the edge of her seat. He smiled and then continued. "The story is long about her seeking out Plentimon, but she eventually stood before him and made her request. She said to him, I ask that you curse Ozaki the Wolf so that he will always break even, never knowing the joys of victory or defeat.

"I suppose for Plentimon it might have been something of a novel request, so he granted it to her.

"It did not take long for Ozaki to realize the game had changed. There was no longer the highs of a winning streak, nor the lows of losses. I suppose it became boring, because even though he still had a fortune, he left the casino of his own accord.

"Eventually he would find Plentimon and have the curse removed, which is another story on its own."

"It sounds as if you are planning on fixing the game," Sparrow said to him.

"The interesting this about the Ozaki story is that he did not get angry, at either Plentimon nor his daughter. They had not taken anything from him, he had not really been cheated. In some respects they left him better off than he might have been. They just made it less fun."

"And you think the gods might react the same way?"

"I don't know. They might still kill us for this, but I like our chances better."

"Do you know how to fix this game?" Lightning asked him.

"Not a clue."

She looked at Ivory. "And you?"

"I did not know these games even existed until recently."

"So do we need to get the Unconquered Sun to tell us how to do this?" she demanded, angrily.

"No," Heron said. "I already know where to get the answers on how we might fix the game. The Malfeans. They created it."

Sparrow frowned, and Lightning looked, well, perhaps horrified, but Ivory jumped from her chair. "We are going to Malfeas?"

"You can't go there," Lightning told him, standing.

"In fact, I can. Out of all of us, I am the safest there. They cannot touch an Eclipse operating on official business. That extends to those on my diplomatic mission."

The Lunar frowned, but said, "You trust that?"

"Completely."

She sat down. "I don't like it."

"I understand, and I am not asking you to go. I will only take Ivory with me."

"Good," Ivory said as Sparrow said, "She's a child."

"Hey!" Ivory exclaimed.

"She's the one of us most likely to make sense of what we could learn."

"It seems wrong."

"I won't argue it."

"I want to go," Ivory said.

"She wants to go," Heron told Sparrow.

"She would. Fine. What will Lightning and I be doing?"

"I have no plans for the short term. In the long term I need you to get invitations to the Calibration Celebration in Yu-Shan."

"How?"

"Ask for them," Lightning said. "Mention it to Dreaming Blue or Darken Gray, or just stand somewhere and yell that you want an invitation. You helped defeat a Death Lord. There are gods who want to talk to you." She paused. "As for me, I can't stay still. If there are people hunting Courtesan I need to be on the move."

"It sounds like I am to be left alone at the Ice Tree."

Heron looked towards Sparrow. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "I am not complaining. There are things I can do. Have you thought of what to do with Dreaming Blue? If we just scatter, she will ask questions. She might feel the need to get help. As it is she is a known threat we can control, to some extent. We need to bring her into our confidence."

"We can't trust her."

"Why not? I do not think she was particularly happy about the situation in heaven."

Heron nodded. "I will give you that."

"Even if all she does is stay quiet and give us the chance to hang ourselves, that will help."

"It does not feel like we have enough."

"What if we gave her somethin' she wanted?" Ivory asked.

"And what does she want?" Heron asked her.

Ivory opened her hands, within them was the watch he had won months before. "She wants the Orrery."

"True, but why would you give it to her?"

Ivory's cheeks coloured. "It's not much good to me. I can't get it to do what she can."

Heron was careful not to laugh or smile. "If you are willing to give it up then I think we might have a starting point and the leverage to ask her to swear an oath."

* * *

Answers to reviews since last chapter

**Mr Pumblechook** thanks for writing, glad you are enjoying it

**N3phtys** glad you like Ivory. Sorry that Lightning and Courtesan have not gotten the focus you would like. I can't promise that short and mid term that will change, but long term you should get what you want.

Always appreciate feedback.

* * *

I suppose that the music for this chapter could be Hungry Like the Wolf.


	11. The Collar and the Parasol

**The Collar and the Parasol**

* * *

Decisions made, they wasted no time in enacting them.

Lightning was to take Courtesan and head south, far from the Ice Tree and the Tower. Heron and Ivory would also make their start in the south. They had only given themselves a short time to prepare.

The Lunar found Ivory in the manse's work room, building what looked a lot like a parasol.

"I need you to make me something," Lightning told her.

Ivory looked up the work table. "A new power bow for Courtesan?"

"No," she paused, "could you?"

"Probably," she said quickly, "if you want it."

"I'll keep that in mind. I need something to control her."

"Like she's an automaton?"

"No," Lightning shook her head. "No slave collars. Something that will make her control herself."

Ivory looked confused. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"The field around this manse, could you create one that was man-portable?"

"Maybe," she paused, "probably. I'm pretty sure I can. Why?"

"Courtesan was driven to try to kill you by the voices of the Neverborn. She would do quite a lot to avoid hearing them again."

"Oh," and then louder, "Oh. I see." Ivory nodded. "I'll make something."

"You will?"

"Shouldn't be too hard. And I have a positive opinion towards anything that keeps people from trying to kill me."

"Understandable. This is not going to interfere with your other work?" She looked towards the parasol like thing.

Ivory shook her head. "Won't have anytime to make anythin' else for you."

"If you can make this it will be more than enough."

* * *

"I will not give you complete freedom to do as you wish," Dreaming Blue told Heron. "Even for the Orrery."

"I am not asking you to, nor do I need your permission to do what I wish."

They stood outside the tower, near the Razor. The sun had been up for several hours and the air was growing warm.

"You might find your actions hampered if the Brotherhood takes an active interest in your activities."

Heron simply smiled, as if such events did not concern him in the least. No wonder he did so well as the Gaming tables, she thought.

"What will you swear?"

That, Dreaming Blue thought, was a good question.

"I will not hide the fact that you and Ivory travel to Malfeas, though I will not broadcast it."

"Acceptable."

"And if asked I will pass on that Lightning has taken the Abyssal into hiding, to protect her from other Abyssals."

"Very well. But that leaves our actions to return her Exaltation to what it was."

Dreaming Blue considered his words. "You do not talk about saving or redeeming Nihilistic Courtesan."

"No, I do not."

"Why?"

Heron looked away from Dreaming Blue for a moment, starting up at he sky. "Ivory spoke a prophecy to me last night."

"That girl and her prophetic statements. Low level leakage from the Loom of Fate, or momentary disturbances in Sacheverll's slumber. She shook her head. "They are messy."

"But true it seems."

"True is messy. True is the worst because it leaves little room to get out of the fate."

"That is an interesting statement."

"Better a prophecy controlled and vague. What did she say?"

"The light of the Unconquered Sun will burn death's doxy to nothing and the Lunar shall be forever scarred by the light."

"Charming. Who else heard this?"

"At the moment, Ivory, myself and now you."

"Keep it that way. I dislike prophecy like that. I will let my superiors know you seek an audience with the Unconquered Sun. It will either make them laugh or scare them to death. That is the most I can keep secret." She reached out towards Heron and he took her hand.

"I swear that I shall not tell anyone of your plans, other than you seek an audience with the Unconquered Sun, if Ivory gives me the Orrery before you leave for Malfeas, and I shall keep my silence until the day after the end of the upcoming Calibration."

"Let Heaven witness and bind your oath," Heron spoke, and around them his anima flared up into golden flames.

"You are all bastards," Dreaming Blue told him.

* * *

Silken steel, dyed a soft pink, with a white, snow drop pattern on the material, covered the parasol's oricahlcium and moonsilver frame. Ivory had it open above her, spinning it, looking up at the old realm characters she had put on the underside. The words were a prayer to the Unconquered Sun, spinning the parasol made it a prayer wheel.

It was quite elegant and pretty.

She put her hand around the bottom of the shaft, twisted, and pulled out a blade of gold. A small sword, with an edge that had been honed with sunlight and soul, she suspected it could cut a thought in two if she could hit it. Ivory slid the blade back into the shaft, locking it in place.

She closed the parasol and placed it on her workbench.

"I am not travelling to Malfeas with you."

Ivory turned to look at Hu. "Of course you are," she said.

"No, not this time."

Ivory frowned. "You haf to come with me," she said.

Hu shook his large head, a strangely human gesture. "Heron has chosen to keep your plans from me. I agree with him."

"I don't care. You're coming with me!"

Hu got up from the floor, he twined around her, like a house cat might have twined around her ankles, but Hu's body covered all of her. He knocked her off her feet, but at the same time kept her from falling, instead gently putting her on the floor before pinning her with a large paw. "I am not," he told her.

Ivory struggled against him a moment, but the tiger was much stronger than she. "Who will protect me?" she asked, her voice softer.

Hu did not release her. "If you are smart enough you will not need protection."

"That's not fair!"

"Thank you," he said, and then released her even as he left.

Ivory sat up, watched him go. "Stupid Hu," she said softly.

She was still sitting on the floor when Darken Gray came into the room. "Young ladies do not sit on the floor."

"This one does right now," Ivory told her.

Darken Gray's heels clicked on the floor as she walked over to Ivory. She knelt down and placed a hand on Ivory's forehead. "What has you upset?"

"Hu is not coming to Malfeas with me."

"That is no surprise. Gods are not made welcome in hell. I am not going with you."

"Hu's been with me since I Exalted," she said softly.

Darken Gray pushed Ivory's hair away from her face, smiled, and said, "All the more reason for you to return quickly to Creation and Hu then. Now up on your feet." She stood, pulling Ivory up with her. "Are you finished your work here?"

Ivory looked around the workshop. "Yes."

"Well, we shall clean up, and then it will be time for you to go to bed."

Ivory, feeling tired, did not argue. She looked through the odds of scraps, finding places to put them, while Darken Gray sorted though tools and put them where they needed to go.

"The shelves are too empty," Ivory said as she put a twisted coil of moonsilver into a drawer.

"Yes," Darken Gray said, hanging a large mallet up on the wall. "I suppose in this age it will be difficult to get replacement materials."

"I can probably r'place more of the raw materials." With a grunt of effort she put a bar of orichalcium up onto a shelf just above her head. "The reagents and mechanisms will be harder to get."

They continued in silence, tidying up. The room, while looking a little sparser than when Ivory had first come into it, was neat at the very least.

Darken Gray took Ivory's hand and led her from the room. The lights went out behind them.

* * *

A dream woke Ivory, leaving her laying on a bed roll, a little confused. "Caretaker?" she asked.

"Yes Ivory?"

"What time is it?"

"Two hours and twenty one minutes after midnight."

Ivory sat up, pushing the thin cover off her. "I dreamed of something."

"Would you like to tell me?"

Ivory hugged her arms around her knees. "Of the orrery maybe." She paused. "Is there an observatory here?"

"No, I am afraid not. There is a planetarium on the lower levels."

"A planetarium?"

"Yes."

"Does it work?"

"It does. Would you like to see it?

"Where is Darken Gray?"

"She is in the room next over."

Ivory thought about it, then got up, her night dress settling around her. "Please show me the way."

"Of course."

Outside of the room Ivory found another of the sprites bobbing in the air, waiting for her. She followed if through the shadowy corridors of the manse, her bare feet quiet on the floors.

As she walked she asked questions about what was through the various doors she passed. The Caretaker told her, informing her of the current condition as well as past uses.

"Ivory, both Heron and Sparrow are up ahead."

Ivory paused. "What are they doing?"

"Talking."

"As long as they are only talking," She said softly. "Let's circle around."

"Of course Ivory"

* * *

It was a music room, and there were a few instruments that had survived the ages, but most had succumbed to time. It was brightly lit, and provided enough place for Sparrow and Heron to spread out maps and papers on the floor in front of them as they talked.

There were also several wine bottles and a pair of glasses. The bottles had come from the Razor, the glasses from the manse. The two of them had drunk quite a lot, but Sparrow supposed that Heron, like she, had an increased tolerance since exalting.

"If anything happens, your likeliest allies are the Marukan and Lookshy," Heron said.

"Too far."

"Make it worth their time to travel the distance. Lookshy has air transport."

"Worth their time? Yes, I suppose it could be."

"What are you thinking?"

"We have it in us to become the premier maintenance facility of the age. But that requires Ivory."

"Ivory can teach," Heron told her.

"Maybe, probably not. Who wants to learn things from a child?"

"She will grow up soon enough."

"We may not have the time." She pulled a letter towards herself, sliding it over the smooth tiles. "This is a bad time for you to leave."

"There won't be a good time."

"I don't want you to leave. I thought we'd be able to work together. With the resources taken care of we could find some project that would just allow us to be with each other."

Heron moved his hand closer to hers, but did not take it. It was sparrow who chose to reach out and grasp it. "We're scattering, as if we had never met."

"We're scattering to help each other. We'll be back together soon enough."

"Or we will all die, alone."

Heron squeezed her hand. "That might happen."

Sparrow took a deep breath. "And it might not, I should not dwell on it." She kept her hold on his hand for a few seconds, then gently slid her fingers out of his. "I can put together enough of a deterrent to keep the small threats away, but if something big happens, how do I get Lookshy's help?"

"You start with Karal Linwei and Namiko Teresu," he told her with a smile. "Convince them that there is a benefit for Lookshy and they will do the rest for you."

Sparrow nodded, but then said, "Why is it that your strongest allies seem to be women?" She was not certain why she had said it, she certainly hoped it did not make her sound jealous, even if she was, which she was not sure of.

Heron lifted his shoulders and picked a piece of paper up from the floor. "I am not sure that is the case. And even if it is," and he smiled at her, "I am just as likely to have taken my male friends as lovers as my female."

Sparrow wanted to tell him that that did not make her feel better, but she knew for certain she would sound jealous then. "If Lookshy and the Marukan will not help, who else, male or female can I talk to?"

Heron did not answer immediately as he looked over the maps. Finally he said, "No one close enough or with the strength to help."

"Alright, then I need to start thinking about making more allies."

"What are you going to do?"

Sparrow reached for one of the reports and said, "Think about it."

* * *

The planetarium was in the tower's basements, a large globe, carved out of the rock, the huge projector suspended in the centre of the space. It reminded Ivory of the Solar manse under Lookshy. She walked along the cat walk until she stood by the assemblage of lenses and gears made of brass and orichalcium.

Hesitating for a moment, fingers brushing against the controls, she took a breath and then activated the device.

The room went dim, and above her were projected the starts of the night sky.

"Is this accurate?" she asked.

"It is," The caretaker answered. "This is currently what is in the night sky."

Ivory looked at the projection above, astronomy lessons allowing her to pick out the constellations and stars, to even put some significance to their current placement. Soon enough she grew bored with the stars and looked again at the projector and its controls.

"This seems more complicated than it needs to be," she finally said.

"The Lady built if herself. I cannot say if it is more complicated than what she intended."

Ivory thought that a strange answer, but did not press the Caretaker. Instead she accessed the controls and activated the second set of projectors.

Below other stars appeared, with a clockwork nature to them. Ivory stared down at them and asked, "That is the Calendar of Setesh?"

"Yes," the Caretaker told her, "but it is not current. That is how the Calendar appeared when first built. What is appears like now the projector will not show."

Ivory looked all around, her gaze drifting from the stars above to the Calendar below. "Why did she build this?"

"I cannot say."

After several minutes Ivory reached out and shut the projector down, leaving the room in darkness for a few seconds before the lights came up. "One more thing for me to find out."

* * *

Hu sat alone in the tower's antechamber, staring at the sarcophagus.

"Would your mother have approved of Ivory?" The caretaker asked.

"She would have been disappointed to learn the Exaltation passed as it has," Hu answered. "A child, the descendant of the very people who had killed her and destroyed Creation."

"I will serve whoever possess the shard, but do you approve of her?"

Hu growled to indicate he did.

"And how long will you care for her? Your mother would not have wanted you to put your career in danger to look after Ivory."

"Five Days in Darkness allows this."

"You owe your mother no debt that is repaid by becoming guardian to the one who now holds her power."

"What business is it of yours Caretaker?"

"The Lady had me care for both the tower and her children who lived within."

"I am not that cub anymore."

"That may be so, but I remember it well enough, and I suppose one of my last duties to the Lady is to ensure that her remaining child is happy."

Hu was quiet for a time, eyes focused on the sarcophagus. "I am content for the moment."

"Will you tell Ivory?"

"Likely, when she is older."

* * *

For Courtesan it was as if only one moment had passed between her being put in the stasis pod and Lightning opening it.

It had been three days, though she could not credit it. Still, when she stepped out of the Tower is was the bright day of early morning, so obviously some time had passed.

"Follow me," Lightning told her, and the Lunar started towards the forest. They walked past the Razor, and Courtesan thought to ask about the others, but chose to hold her question. Lightning did not look like she would choose to answer.

They passed into the shadows under the trees, and the old roadway that spiralled out of the deep crater the manse occupied. It was quiet, cool, soft sounds of insects and the cries of birds. Every now and then she saw the white of old bone amongst the leaf litter.

She supposed they might have been walking two hours or so, by the glimpses of the sun she would see through breaks in the canopy. The pace Lightning set was a quick walk, not changing. The trees thinned and they came to the rim of the crater.

Lightning stopped. "The field that protects this tower ends as soon as you step over it the rim." She turned to look at Courtesan. "When you step over it, the power of the Underworld can reach you again."

Courtesan took a step back, though whether from Lightning or the boundary, she was not entirely certain.

"I don't want to leave this place," she said quietly.

"Ivory won't have you here, bringing unwelcome attention."

Courtesan turned and looked over her shoulder, wondering if there were other places like this, ones where a child would not chase her away. "You don't know what it is like."

"I suppose not. I can offer you something."

Courtesan turned back to Lightning. The Lunar had produced a wooden case, it rested across the palms of her hands as she held it out towards her. Courtesan took a handful of small steps forward, she reached for the case and opened it.

Within the box rested a band of woven orichalcium and moonsilver in the pattern of roses wrapped in thorns, set with slivers of jet and small rubies. It was quite beautiful and Courtesan's hand reached towards it. "It is a collar," she said after a moment.

"Or a necklace perhaps," Lightning said, "it might be any neck jewellery, but let's call it a collar. I will lock it around your neck, after that I can cause it to fall free whenever I chose, and you may remove it yourself as you wish."

She looked away from the collar and up at Lightning. "And if I take it off?"

"Only a Solar or a Lunar can lock it around your neck again."

"And when it is locked?"

Lightning's smile held no warmth in it. "Ivory is certain it will offer you protection from the voices of your Underworld masters."

Courtesan nodded, swallowed to moisten her throat. "What would you have me do?" There had to be a price.

"When we pass beyond the boundary field, if the collar does indeed silence the voices and whispers, you will swear an oath and Heron will have heaven bind it."

"What is the oath?"

Lightning did reply immediately. Finally she told her, "Obedience to me while you wear that collar."

Courtesan thought about it for a few seconds. "I'll accept that."

Lightning shifted the box about and took the collar from it. "Turn around."

Courtesan did so.

"Lift your hair."

She reached behind her to gather up her blonde hair and lifted it to expose her neck.

Lightning stepped up close behind her, Courtesan stiffened her knees to keep her legs from trembling. "Ivory says that if you call upon the powers of the Underworld it might open a temporary hole in the protection. Keep that in mind."

The smooth, silky soft metal slipped around her neck, was pulled gently tight, and there was a click as Lightning locked it. Courtesan reached up and ran her fingers along the metal. The metal seemed to tingle against her skin.

Lightning tossed the wooden box aside. Courtesan turned to see the Lunar stepping over the crater rim.

Courtesan followed, pausing a moment before making that step. She felt the effect of the field, like stepping through a spiderweb. On the other side of it the strange sense of peace she had felt was gone, but the voices of the Neverborn did not erupt in her head. Even the quiet murmurs she had recently been subject to were gone.

If she held herself still and searched deep within she thought she could sense the potential, but it was far, far away.

"Is it working?"

She looked at Lightning, swallowed again and then nodded. "I don't hear them."

"Good," Lightning said and continued down the old, broken road, finally stopping and taking a seat in the shadow of a thorny bush.

Courtesan made her way close to the Lunar and took a seat nearby.


	12. Deserts of Departure

**Deserts of Departure**

* * *

The Razor had crossed the distance between the Scavenger lands and the deserts of the South in a little less than a day, and the sun had still not risen. The craft came down in the cover of darkness, on a rocky ridge of stone that overlooked a trade road and the Yellow Leaf Oasis.

The cargo hatch opened, Lightning climbed out, letting Courtesan climb out on her own. The collared Abyssal had sworn her oath of obedience and pledged Ivory's safety so Lightning had not needed to hobble her.

Heron came down from the passenger compartment, jumping to the rocky ground. He was ready for the desert, wearing loose, white pants and a long sleeved shirt, his hair braided into a long, single tail, covered with a black, silk wrap. He carried a cloak the colour of sand under one arm, and as he landed he set his wide brimmed hat high on his head.

Ivory came out behind him, Darken Gray helping her down. Ivory was dressed in a manner similar to Heron, but her hair was pushed back from her face by a golden hairband, and she wore her long, black cloak.

Hu followed, landing lightly, and a moment later Sparrow leaned out of the hatch. "You are all sure of this?"

"Not really," Lightning called up to her, "but it seems like the best plan we have for the moment."

Sparrow looked over all of them, her gaze settling on Courtesan for a few seconds. The Abyssal took a step back and turned her face away.

"Anyone need a ride out of here?"

"Thank you," Darken Gray said, "but I shall make my own way."

Hu moved close to Ivory, his intention clear.

"How long until you return?"

"Don't expect us back for at least a month," Heron told her.

"We'll keep moving until you send word," Lightning said.

Sparrow nodded, not looking happy. "Very well. Take care, all of you." She looked directly at Heron as she said it, then took a step back, closing the hatch.

The Razor took off slowly, raising little dust, then, when it was high enough, it turned and flew off, increasing speed until it was gone from their sight.

Lightning put a hand on Courtesan's shoulder and directed her towards the oasis.

Heron watched them go, then lay his cloak across a flat stone and took a seat. "I'll go down later to buy some supplies," he told Ivory.

"Will anyone come up here today?" Ivory asked him as she paced around the area.

"Probably not."

Ivory kicked a small stone away.

Darken Gray found a small, flat rock and took a surprisingly proper seat on it. "Ivory, sit down and get some rest."

Ivory looked around, then did as Darken Gray had said, Hu coming over the sit beside her.

When the sun lit up the eastern edge of Creation Heron got to his feet, watching it slowly raise.

"It might be some time before we see this again," he said to Ivory.

He heard Ivory get to her feet, cross the rocky ground. The Two solars stood and greeted the sun.

* * *

The sun was barely up when Lightning walked over the sands and stepped onto the road. Old glass, cracked in places, but still solid, lead towards Chiaroscuro in one direction, and the other farther into the desert. The oasis was not quite a days travel away from the city.

She paused near a large pole on which hung a large ring of iron. Reaching up she ran her hand along the metal, polished with the brush of thousand and thousands of hands. Lightning made sure that Courtesan also touched the iron, knowing that people within the tents were watching.

On the edge of the oasis, where hardy desert grasses sprung up amidst the sand, a low wall of mud bricks had been constructed, and a guard stood at the single opening.

"Business?" he asked her, looking the both of them over.

Lightning carried her daiklaive, wrapped in a sheet of cotton and bound with leather, over her shoulder. The size of the weapon alone would mark her as a person to be wary of. Courtesan carried no weapons and the guard ignored her after his first look.

"Horses," she said, "and some supplies. We're riding to Chiaroscuro."

"You walked out of the desert?"

"Caravan master kicked us out. Been walking some of the night."

He frowned, narrowed his eyes. "Why'd he do that?"

"We weren't willing to share his tent."

"Man have to be a bastard to do that."

"He was," Lightning said in agreement. Her words were sweetened with essence, their tones and her body language projecting trustworthiness.

"Got silver to spend?"

Lightning shifted her cloak, revealing a belt pouch. A turn of her hips caused the metal within to chime musically.

"Go in. Don't cause no trouble. You'll be watched."

"Thank you," Lightning told him, and passed through the gap in the wall.

"How long will that last?" Courtesan asked. "He might believe it now, but if he talks to someone about us the story is pretty thin."

"By then we will have spent some money, and silver has a way of erasing questions."

There was activity within the oasis, the smells of cooking, people waking to the new day. Lightning strolled along a path, towards the large pool that fed the oasis, and the fenced paddocks that held the livestock.

"Do you ride?" Lightning asked Courtesan. She stopped by the split rail fence and looked at the horses.

"No."

"Let's see what they have." She put her foot on the lowest rail, stood up on it, looking over the animals. It was, she thought, a fairly diverse mix.

"Welcome, welcome," a woman called out.

Lightning looked over her shoulder, saw the speaker, a middle aged woman, approaching. Well dressed, confident, not someone's wife sent out to greet customers. Desert robes, partially open, her brown hair slightly damp.

"Good morning," Lightning said, stepping down from the rail. "I want to buy a pair of horses."

"Of course, of course," she said with a smile, and swept her arm out to indicate the horses. "The finest horseflesh you'll find on this side of Chiaroscuro." She looked Lightning and Courtesan over as she moved loser to the fence. "Look at those two. Fine mares, strong and solid!"

Lightning took a place beside the woman. "A pair of desert ponies, both have seen better days. You are a cruel woman to sell those to any that expect work from them."

The horse trader did not let that phase her. "Ah, too true, too true. The morning light is hard on my old eyes." She laughed. "You are right. Well then, take a look at that white stallion." She indicated a large horse in a smaller, separate paddock.

Lightning looked at the animal and nodded. "A finer horse I have not seen recently, and were I looking for a sire for a herd of mares I would buy that one in a moment, but what I do not need is a high strung, unbroken maverick."

The woman narrowed her eyes as she looked closely at Lightning. "I could sell that to a young, stupid, noble Delzahn."

"Likely you could."

The woman turned lo look back at the horses. "Hard horse to ride, but someone who can look at a sleepy animal and speak its disposition so well might easily bring that horse to heel."

"Maybe so."

"Riding to Chiaroscuro are you?"

"Your gate guard talks a lot."

The woman nodded. "He does. I'll sell you the stallion and a gelding for your slave, saddle, and tack, for one hundred pieces of trade weight silver. You can sell that white beast in the city for at least two hundred."

"So why not take it to the city yourself?"

"Tried, twice. First time my son ended up with a broken arm and wasted two days chasing that stallion. Second time it killed the fool who thought he could break it. Had to pay a death price for that."

"Not interested in helping you get the death price back," Lightning said. "The stallion, that roan," she pointed to a strong, but placid looking horse, "saddle and tack, fifty silver coins."

"Ridiculous. Ninety."

"I am feeling generous, seventy."

The woman frowned, kicked one of the fence poles and then spat. "You are taking food from my family, but I will accept it." She held out her hand.

Lightning took it and gave it a strong shake. "Deal."

The horse trader, Cinnamon, had tea brought for Lightning and Courtesan while she had sent for the people who would get the horses and the saddles.

Lightning tossed the tea back into her mouth and put the cup aside. "I'll go and get the rest of the things we need. Stay back from the stallion, but see if you can get the roan used to you. Horse looks a little stupid, hopefully it won't know it should be afraid of you."

Not waiting for Courtesan's reply, and not caring for it either, she went to buy the gear they would need for their ride to Chiaroscuro. When she got back, weighed down with her purchases, Courtesan was gently petting the roan's muzzle as nearby the stallion pulled at the rope that tied it to a fence post, trying to break free.

She dropped her purchases, walked up to the horse, stepped close before it could kick, grabbed its halter and pulled its head towards her. "I'll eat your heart and take your form if you give me any trouble, do we have an understanding meat?" she whispered to it.

The horse immediately stilled, its eyes rolling slightly and it laid its ears back against its head.

"Pack the saddle bags, and roll the blankets into a two separate bundles," she told Courtesan, "we need to leave soon if we are going to make the City before the sun sets."

Courtesan went to do as she had been told. She stopped after a moment, holding up an old recurve bow and a quiver of arrows that lay amongst the things Lightning had purchased. "Are these for me?"

"They're nothing special," Lightning nodded as she untied the stallion and pulled it close to where Courtesan worked, "but they might come in handy." The horse snorted nervously, apparently smarter than the gelding and recognizing Courtesan for what she was.

"Thank you," Courtesan told her.

* * *

Heron had gone to the oasis early in the day, returning with the supplies they would need. They had spent the day resting, a tarp stretched between rocks to give them some shade.

Ivory sat on a rock, holding up a medallion of orichalcium. Within the golden setting was an irregular shaped stone of dark-yellow amber. It was the hearthstone from the earth manse under the Ice Tree, a stone of safe harvest.

"How are we going to get to Malfeas?" she asked.

Heron, who had been quiet on that matter for a time looked at the sun, low on the horizon. "I need you to summon an agate named Talmon," he said.

Ivory slipped the medallion over her head and slipped in under her clothing. "How can an agate get us to Malfeas?" She jumped to her feet, ran towards where Heron stood, skirting Darken Gray. "They're only minor demons. You need one of the second circle to bring you to the demon realm."

"During Calibration one might cross over, if one is foolish," Darken Gray said.

Ivory turned towards her and nodded. "It takes five days to cross the desert Cecelyne before one reaches the demon city. When one leaves they always return to Creation before Calibration ends, which is strange."

"Very good," Darken Gray said.

"Time moves in a manner inconsistent with Creation," Heron said, still looking towards the setting sun. "But we will not wait for Calibration."

Ivory was curious as to what Heron planned. "I've read that in the First Age there were other ways into the Malfeas." She turned in a circle and said, "A key that will cause any door to open into the city."

"Not the kind of key you would want to find by accident." Heron turned towards her and smiled. "Call Talmon tonight and I'll tell you more."

Ivory waited a moment, then ran to her small pack and began to remove the things she needed to summon the demon. A bit of chalk to sketch out her summoning circle, a few twists of orichalcium and jade to form the binding; she would begin as soon as the sun set.

Hours passed while she cast the spell, calling the agate, Talmon, to appear before her. Her cast mark glowed on her forehead, and the lines of her circle glowed softly with sorcerous power. She was aware of the others around her, but she did not pay attention to what they did.

When midnight came Ivory finished the spell. She stood from where she knelt and spoke the last word of the spell which fell into place like the keystone of an arch.

The agate appeared before her, larger than most of the breed; almost as large as Octavian's famed agate steed. Talmon crouched low on six jewelled legs, the beautiful gemstone eyes meeting her gaze. Seconds passed, and then the demon dipped its head in submission.

"Done," Ivory said happily.

"Good," Heron told her. "Tell it to call upon Florivet, that it will fly us into the desert of Cecelyne and it must open itself up to the Whim of the Wind."

Ivory turned towards it, "I am sure you heard Heron. Call upon Florivet and fly us into the desert." Ivory said it confidently, but she really did not know what was to happen.

"Surely master," the agate spoke in a voice of brass bell and cyrstal, "such a trip does not really interest you. Command me and I will fly you across Creation and we will see wonders and enjoy adventures together."

"You are kind to offer, but you'll call on Florivet and fly us to Cecelyne."

It buzzed its wings in agitation. "Very well master, but you are cruel to ask."

So beautiful was it and so sad did it sound that Ivory looked over her shoulder at Heron. He paused in loading supplies into a pack. "Don't let it whine to you Golden Eyes."

Ivory turned back to the demon. "Florivet, now."

The agate stilled its wings, its weight shifted slightly. "You will not have long Gate Breaker," the Agate said, its voice still beautiful, but the inflections different. Ivory took a step back, surprised. "I will not have Talmon harmed so there is no time to dally."

"I Understand," Heron said, shouldering his pack as he approached the wasp. He climbed upon its back in one effortless motion and then offered a hand to Ivory. "Come on Golden Eyes, we have to hurry."

Ivory took his hand and he pulled her up onto the wasp, settling her ahead of him.

Darken Gray approached the wasp. She held a valise up to Ivory. "Your headband will keep you clean, but there are some clothes in here, for presentations sake. A lady does not travel without a chance of undergarments at the very least."

Ivory took the valise and tucked it against her. "Thank you Darken Gray." She looked towards Hu. "I will see you when I get back. Be safe."

Hu dipped his head in agreement.

"Do not trust the demons," Darken Gray told Ivory. "Do not get caught up in their schemes. And if you must sell your soul, do so dearly. Your mother would accept nothing else."

"Do so dearly?" Heron asked.

"She is a Twilight," Darken Gray said as she stepped back from the wasp.

"Thank your Darken Gray," Ivory said, smiling at the god. And then she called out excitedly, "Let's go."

The wasp took to the air, hovering for a few seconds, as if getting used to the weight upon its back. Ivory waved to Darken Gray and Hu before the wasp turned, banking, and sped out over the dark sands.

"Hold tight, I would not sadden Talmon with your falling," the agate said.

There was a twisting sensation, and while the agate maintained its straight flight, the world seemed to turn and twist around them. The crescent moon was gone from the sky, and far off on the horizon was a green light.

"That hurt master," Talmon said, its voice back to how Ivory had first heard it.

"Yes, I am sorry," Ivory told it.

"Down there," Heron said, "the land ship, put us down beside it."

"Down to the ship," Ivory said.

The agate dropped smoothly and quickly, and in a moment it landed on the silver sands beside the land ship.

"This is the Foremost Gale," Heron said as he dismounted. "Its Master is Florivet, Whim of the Wind, soul of the End of All Wisdom. Best behaviour Golden Eyes."

At the railing of the ground ship stood a tall figure: cloven hoofed, on digitigrade legs, a man's broad torso, with a lupine head. From his shoulders sprouted majestic wings of glorious white feathers. He regarded Heron with wide, shining eyes like those of an owl. "As promised Gate Breaker, your return to the hell of our prison is achieved."

"You have my thanks Florivet," Heron said, dipping his head in a slight bow. "And now I would ask that do me a further favour and transport us across the beautiful wastes of Cecelyne to the brass wall of Malfeas."

"Is that all you ask?" Florivet snorted.

"I also ask that you provide me with a fresh introduction to Orabilis, for I need to research the knowledge of the Yozis."

He laughed, tossing back his wolf like head, a musical sound. Laughter over he returned his attention to Heron for a moment, then his gaze shifted to Ivory, who was climbing from Talmon's back. "You ask all this and the lady is far too young. Between your own beauty and the promised beauty of the child, I think that you are toying with me Gate Breaker."

"Never Whim of the Wind," Heron said, "this is Golden Eyes, Twilight sorceress who joins me on my mission here. In a decade she might speak for herself on such matters, but at the moment..."

"Oh?" He leaned forward on the rail of the ship. "And are you willing to walk rather than offer me the pleasure of either of your most intimate company?"

Ivory, who had a moment before been focusing on the fact that Heron seemed to think it would take a decade before she might be old enough for such mature pleasures (and being a little upset about that number, ten years being a long time, and a little sad that in ten years she would be unchanged), had her attention snapped to the demon. She was not afraid really, for she knew that she was protected by the Eclipse oaths Heron could call on. However, she knew that deals could be made, and one might open themselves up to harm.

Before Heron could answer another voice sounded. Similar in tone to that of the agatae, it said, "Surely this is not a worthy topic." The speaker stepped to the rail beside Florivet. She was a woman, mostly, for she had jewelled eyes like the agate, and from her shoulders sprouted wings similar to those of Florivet, though they were tinged with red along the edge of the feathers.

"And I am sure the airships would benefit from calm winds." She turned to look at Ivory. "Would you not summon up the Whim of the Winds on a moonless night, offer him a cask of spirits and a courtesan or three, for calm winds?"

Ivory, staring up at the woman, said nothing,

Heron answered first, "So you know about the airships?"

The woman laughed, as did Florivet, and the woman said, "I must admit that we knew of and played in a part in the recent difficulties you had."

"I hope there is no displeasure then over how that event ultimately played out."

"Not from us," Florivet said. "I shall offer you passage, and the introduction you seek," he returned his attention to Ivory, "and I hope that I will be offered suitable recompense one day."

"We shall see," Heron said before Ivory might answer. "Let's go Golden Eyes."

Ivory nodded, a little flustered by all that had happened. She turned towards Talmon. "If I can get you word, will you come and give me a ride? From now until I leave Malfeas, or until the next Calibration, were I to stay that long?"

"Agreed," the agate answered.

"You may go then, and thank you."

Talmon's wings buzzed and it took to the air, zipping away. "We'll still both arrive at the city in five days," Ivory said softly. Then she turned and ran across the silver sand, towards Heron who was already climbing aboard the Foremost Gale.

* * *

It was night when Sparrow brought the Razor back to the Ice Tree. A storm had blown in from the south, the warm winds creating punishing down drafts as they cooled. An airship would have had difficulty flying in such conditions, might even be forced to put down, but the Razor had the power to push through that kind of weather.

She circled the Ice Tree twice then put the Razor into its landing cradle.

She exited the ship, a blast of icy snow hitting her in the face. After pulling on her leather flight jacket she sealed the Razor and jumped down onto the spar. Dreaming Blue was there, waiting for her, standing a few steps off in a pool of light . She appeared bored.

"Let's go," Sparrow called over the wind. The spar's walkway had a rough texture to it, offsetting the slippery, wet snow, making the walk safe enough.

Sparrow pulled the hatch to the tree open, stepping aside so Dreaming Blue could enter. She followed, pulling the door closed behind her. It was quiet and warm within.

"Shall we go to your office?" Dreaming Blue asked, brushing snow from her kimono.

"Let's."

Kiyoshi met them just outside of Sparrow's office. He looked as if he might have been asleep, but he stood there, in his armour, eyes clear even if his hair suggested bed head. "Welcome back Captain," he said.

"Thank you. What's the news?" She pushed open the door to her office.

"No problems here. Where are the rest?"

Sparrow turned to face him, both he and Dreaming Blue had followed her into the room. "Lightning and the Death Knight are leading any assassins to the South and Ivory and Heron have gone to Malfeas."

Kiyoshi was silent before saying, "Next time I want to come with you. Both those options sound more interesting that playing watchman here."

Sparrow knew why Kiyoshi was with them, or more to the point she trusted Heron's opinion on why the Terrestrial was there. "I'll see if I can give you something more interesting to do." She circled her desk.

"Oh?" Dreaming Blue said, at the same time Kiyoshi stated, "I like the sound of that."

Sparrow took a seat, indicated that both Dreaming Blue and Kiyoshi should sit. She found herself wishing she had a valet, someone who could have had tea waiting. She found herself missing Darken Gray's presence.

"I want more Dragon Blood soldiers," she told them. "Officers, pilots, medics, whatever. I want them."

"Hard to just whistle them up," Kiyoshi told her.

"You cannot be serious," Dreaming Blue said.

"Dead serious."

"Maybe you could whistle them up," Kiyoushi ventured. "I mean, you are the woman who helped put down the Mask of Winters. That means a lot."

Dreaming Blue looked distressed. "Gathering Dragon Bloods..."

"Will worry some people, I am aware. No matter what I do I am going to cause concern, fear, anger, all of it really. So, you are here as an advisor, what advice do you have to offer, other than not to?"

There was a look on Dreaming Blue's face as if she had been slapped, but it was gone in an instant. "Very well. First of all, do not try to snap up any scions of the Imperial families," she dipped her head towards Kiyoshi, "or of the Lookshy Gens. Not that I do not think you could not be successful in such an enterprise, but it will upset the balance too much."

"I was thinking of going to Whitewall."

"Whitewall? Why?"

Sparrow smiled. "Do you really need to know why, or is this some kind of test?"

Dreaming Blue arched an eyebrow.

"Very well. It is far enough away from the Ice Tree, some distance from any large bastion of the Realm, and from what I have heard they are in constant danger from powerful foes. They are not picky about the help they get, which means I'll be safe there, safe enough at least, and I will find others who were looking to be some distance from any large bastion of the Realm."

"That is a well reasoned argument."

"Surprised?"

"Have you considered how the rulers of Whitewall will react when you come to take away their protectors?"

"I have. I won't take them all, and I will have done them a service large enough to moderate my recruitment."

"What service?" Koyoshi and Dreaming Blue asked at nearly the same moment.

Sparrow shrugged her shoulders. "I am sure the rulers of Whitewall or its defenders will provide me with that answer when I get there."

"I support this plan," Kiyoshi said.

"That is why the First Age Solars never had Fire Aspects as advisors," Dreaming Blue told Sparrow.

"They were probably missing something then. I'll be leaving in two days, barring any more important concerns. You'll be coming with me," she told Kiyoshi.

"Good."

"I will come as well," Dreaming Blue said. "I will see if I can moderate this disaster."

Sparrow nodded. "Very well."

* * *

The blianders, small costal sailing ships, had been making their way up the coast, sailing north, towards where the Anathema had fled. The sailors were nervous at the talk of the monks and the soldiers, for few wished to do battle with monstrous anathema nor heroic Solars (the crew was quietly divided on which it was).

Anzar did not take part in those discussions, he had taken to his cabin, the rocking of the ship as it rolled across waves was relaxing. He wished he had a drink, but he avoided alcohol and other intoxicants while Deled was around.

Lying on his narrow bunk, staring up at the beams above him, he felt the ship shift, the creaking of the mast, a twisting in the timbers as the bilander was turned to the East.

Anzar climbed from his bunk and left the cabin, climbing onto the deck. The sun was rising, and they were turning into it. He looked about and saw the cliffs to either side of Yanaze river, with Lookshy on one bank and Good Harbour on the other.

He sought out the small ship's first officer, a djala male named Shim.

"When did we get the message to make for the Yanaze?"

"About ten minutes ago," Shim said.

"What else?"

Shim shook his head. "Just that."

Anzar wondered if Deled had decided to make for Vinleau. He no longer knew how he felt about that. He had made the suggestion purely out of fear, out of an unwillingness to go into the trap that Heron had set. However, he had thought about it since he had told Deled of Vinleau, and he wondered if he had made a mistake.

He could recall Heron's anger, and he suspected that any harm that Deled might bring to Vinleau would stoke that anger to great heights.

It was unlikely that Anzar would survive it.

"Got another message coming back," Shim told him.

Anzar looked up, saw the flashing lights on the stern of the ship they were following. Anzar was an experienced sailor and read the messages in the flashes quickly enough. "Docking at Lookshy."

"Yes," Shim said a few second later. "Do you think the honourable Deled seeks allies amongst the Seventh Legion?"

"He might," Anzar told Shim, though he did not mention that they had already spoken to the Seventh Legion and had not received any offer of help. "Perhaps he seeks other transport, more suited for the river."

"Could be. We can sail you up to Nexus, but we don't go much farther than that."

"We'll see soon enough." Anzar caught the scent of baking in the salt air. "I'm going to see what the cook is making for breakfast. We've got at least an hour before we reach the docks."

"Maybe two," Shim told him. The small man fell in beside Anzar, apparently also interested in getting a meal.

BREAKBREAKBREAKBREAK

There had been a time when Deled would have expected some aid from Lookshy, at the very least shared intelligence. But since the Empress had disappeared things had changed. Far too many things had changed and he wondered, not for the first time, if the Empress' disappearance had triggered the events of the past five years, or if her disappearance was just another of the events.

The officials of Lookshy he had deal with were unfailingly polite, to the point of offering insult. Not that he could call them out on it.

He was careful not to let his anger show, but he also did not fail to offer criticism when he might, quoting scripture. None of them ever disagreed, but they were careful so as to avoid agreeing to anything.

When he had arrived on the docks he had requested Lookshy's help in obtaining a river boat; they had been quick to provide that assistance. When he had asked to speak with a representative of the Legion it had only taken minutes for the woman to arrive.

Namiko Teresu, he had met her before, a woman who, according to Anzar, was the person handling issues regarding the Anathema Ivory and Heron.

Deled was certain the woman respected the Anathema, which brought his anger close to the surface.

"Peleps-dono, how may the Legion assist your Wyld Hunt?"

She was polite, but the tiniest smile that pulled up the corners of her mouth made a mockery of it.

"Provided me with forces to hunt the Anathema and do your duty to the Dragons."

The same smile, a shake of her head. "I am sorry, but the situation being as it is…"

Deled wanted to yell at her, to strike he for daring to deny the duties given to them by the Dragons, but he let his anger sink away, as if into the depths of the ocean.

"Then I shall tell you my business in the River Province, in the spirit of cooperation. As the Dragons command, their children shall stand together."

"As the Dragons command," she replied.

"I am going to the village of Vinleau."

"Where the Anathema Ivory was discovered," Namiko said.

"The Anathema are known to be territorial, they may return. If they do, I shall destroy them. I will try to protect the people of the village, but my holy duty is to end the threat of the Anathema. The Dragon's blessing upon those harmed or killed while their servants end the Anathema threat."

He was pleased to see Naimiko confident facade waver for a moment.

"As the Dragons command," she said softly. Then cleared her throat. "Would you give us a boon and take along with you forces of Lookshy who might be able to protect the citizens of the River Province?"

Deled did not answer immediately, enjoying the woman's distress, thanking the Dragons for the lever they had given them. "I cannot allow that," he said.

Namiko's lips thinned, her right fist clenching for a moment before she managed to relax. "Please Pelep-dono, the people of Vinleau deserve to be protected."

Deled smiled. "Better death than corruption of the Anathema poison, the word of Hesiesh."

"But did not Mela say…"

Deled leaned forward, grabbing her firmly but gently around the throat. "Do you dare to argue the interpretation of the holy texts?"

He could tell Namiko was not afraid, but she was concerned. "Of course not Peleps-Dono."

He released her and stepped away. He smiled and enjoyed the discomfort he saw in her eyes. "How many soldiers did you wish to send?"

She was uncertain, he thought, as if seeking a trap in his words. Finally she said, "Twenty mortal troops, all veterans."

"Then you will give me forty more troops, all veterans, to swell the ranks of my hunt."

"Forty? Why?"

"The twenty will need to be protected from the Anathema if they are to protect the citizens. My Hunt will need to be stronger to guarantee that."

Deled did not feel bad that he enjoyed the distress he was causing her, it was hardly the required punishment for a Terrestrial who refused to see the truth of the Dragons, but it was a start.

"I will see to getting you the troops you request."

"The forty, ensure they are well versed in the Immaculate Philosophy. I will want to be certain those members of the Hunt are Faithful."

She nodded. "I understand."

"You are dismissed," he told her.

* * *

Music

Danny Michelle's White Lightning for Lightning and Courtesan

* * *

Notes: It is about 4000 miles between Great Forks and Chiaroscuro, so for a days of travelling the Razor would be cruising along at about 200 miles an hour, which is probably a comfortable cruising speed for the First Age ship.

* * *

Game Notes: Lunar's practice a sacred hunt in which the stalk and kill a target, consuming its hearts blood, allowing the Lunar to take that creature's shape.

The Stone of Safe Harvest is a Hearth Stone from an Earth Manse. It transmutes anything eaten or drunken by the bearer into safe and nourishing food. Perfect thing anyone travelling to the Demon City (or anywhere really).


	13. A Tale in the Endless Desert

A Tale in the Endless Desert

* * *

It had been about two days since they had entered the endless desert, the Foremost Gale had been speeding through the sands, Florivet at its helm. An adventurer at heart, the Whim of the Wind was easy with his stories and conversation, and Heron met that with equal enthusiasm. Ivory watched, intrigued by the interplay between the two, less thrilled with Heron and Julline's interaction. Julline was the winged woman.

Aside from her wings and eyes, which were attractive in their own right, she was conventionally beautiful, generous in hip and breast, narrow of waist. Her hair was a red of a similar shade to the red on her wings, and it was long and light and blew in the wind of the ship's passage. It was hardly fair, Ivory had decided.

Travelling to Malfeas was supposed to give her and Heron a chance to spend time together. After all, she had met Heron before Lightning and Sparrow so it was only right that they get that time together. She had not expected to find that Heron was friends with demons.

It really did confound the mind.

And while there were several times she wanted to tell Julline to get away from Heron, she held her tongue. It would not be polite, and she was pretty sure that Julline would only laugh at her.

Still, not having the orrery to examine, or other similar diversions, she had grown bored. The passing silver sand could only hold her interest for so long.

"How'd you know each other," Ivory asked him, "and why do they call you the Gate Breaker?"

Julline looped the line she held around a cleat and said to Heron, "You have not told her the story, even though you brought her here?" She laughed.

"It is not important," Heron said.

Ivory, sensing there was a good story that she wanted to hear, said, "Please tell me."

"Tell her," Julline said. "She can just ask around if she wants." Julline turned to Ivory. "I can tell you. It is a salacious story that will likely kill a pure maiden like you."

Ivory leaned forward. "Really?"

"No, not really," Heron said as he crossed the deck to stand near the mast. "Any indecent parts to the story are purely in the heads of the tellers."

"So tell me the true tale, or I'll listen to the dirty one."

"I wonder what Darken Gray would think about that?"

"Darken Gray is in another world right now."

"You have a point. Very well." Heron shook his head, smiling. "I told you that I had served the Perfect of Paragon."

"As a secret bodyguard," Ivory supplied.

"Yes." He gazed out across the sand, a far off look in his eyes. Julline came and took a seat next to Ivory, her wings around them both. Florivet remained at the helm, but was leaning towards Heron.

"The Paragon is searching for someone, something lost that he definitely wants. He had not found it when I served him, probably still has not found it, but he found many other things. Treasures from the first age, some broken, others not and some dangerous." He shifted his attention to Ivory. "Have you ever heard of a Hell Gate?"

"A doorway into Malfeas? I've read some things..."

"The Paragon found one."

"The Blood and Lust Gate," Florivet spoke. "The Solars of old sometimes marched armies through it to do battle in Malfeas, and other times marched demons into Creation to work on great projects. It was more convenient for them."

"Of course he could not work it," Heron continued. "Only a Solar essence could unlock it. However, while it was quiescent, the Paragon was not willing to trust it. He had it well guarded, and increased that guard during Calibration, in case someone might think to use it while the barriers between the worlds were weakened.

"I was there five calibrations ago as one of the guards."

"That was when the Empress disappeared," Ivory said.

Heron nodded. "And the Solars returned. And that gate opened up to hell. Maybe they are connected."

"What happened?"

"We, myself and the others who were guarding the gate, were suddenly confronted with a doorway in space that led into Malfeas, and on the other side perhaps a hundred demons."

"They would gather at gates like that," Julline said to Ivory, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. "In case they ever opened. Not that any demon would have expected them too. They were just as surprised as you," she said to Heron.

"Probably not as scared as us," Heron said, smiling. "I was pretty certain we would die then, but, I did not want to just give up. Fighting was a lost cause, I was certain of that. A few demons we might have fought, not a small army. They would roll over us completely. I also knew running was pointless, so I decided to talk to them instead. I stepped forward and told them that they would be breaking the law of the Unconquered Sun and be punished accordingly were they to step through the gate."

"How did you know about the Unconquered Sun's laws?"

"The Paragon found a lot of books as well as artifacts, and I was well read."

"Oh."

"I suspect the demons were surprised," he said.

"Of course they were," Julline said. "Here's a mortal who should be cowering in fear, like all the others mortals were, but instead he is quoting the laws of heaven to them."

"I kept speaking, saying things I had read, making a few things up based on guesses, all the time moving closer to the gate controls. And when I reached them I tried to shut it down. It would not close and I could tell the demons were getting over their surprise. That left me only one thing to try. There was a way to destroy the gates, but that was going to require that I step through it."

"Into Malfeas?"

"Into Malfeas. So I activated the device on Creation's side, then stepped through, still talking, and activated the control on the other."

"Did it work?" Ivory asked.

Heron gave her a smile. "Why do you think they call me Gate Breaker?"

"How did you get back?!"

"I did not, not then."

"But the demons..."

"Were terrified," Julline said.

"What?"

"That was the moment the Unconquered Sun chose me."

Ivory said nothing for a moment, putting the parts of the story together into a whole. "Oh," she said. "They couldn't touch an Eclipse."

"And they were not ready to deal with a Solar who had just destroyed their gate."

"But you were still trapped."

"Not really. I could walk from Malfeas. Five days and I would be back in Creation."

"Is that what you did?"

Heron shook his head. "I was curious. There were things I knew that I could learn in Malfeas. So I followed some of the fleeing demons into the city."

"Which is how we met," Julline told Ivory. "I was lucky enough to be the first Citizens to approach him. A Stranger, and one with power; at any time in Malfeas there are tens of thousands of demons who can benefit from that."

Ivory looked between Heron and Julline. "How?"

"I needed information, and Julline could get me easy access to the glass libraries of Orabilis."

"I needed ninety nine demons killed," Julline said.

"Eight," Heron said.

"Ninety nine sounds better."

"Why did you need the demons killed?" Ivory asked.

"There is a street called the Way of the Hopeful Slave, which I vied for control of with," she looked at Heron, frowned, and said, "eight other Citizens. We were forbidden to kill each other by the laws of Cecelyne, or from seeking the services from other Citizens or serfs in killing each other. However, a Stranger is neither Citizen nor serf. I assumed if one appeared who was strong enough, they could remove the others and no law would be broken.

"When I saw Heron, I knew I had found my champion."

"I was not interested in being her hired gun, but her offer of access to the libraries was not something I could easily turn down."

"How could she get you access?"

"Through me," Florivet said from his place on the tiller. "The End of Wisdom has long allowed my by-blows certain privileges."

"Oh," Ivory said, she paused, "how long did you stay?"

Heron looked out over the silver sands, then back to Ivory. "One year. From Calibration to Calibration. One year to secure Julline's hold on the Way of the Hopeful Slave, one year for me to learn all that I wanted. And then I walked out of the desert, back home."

* * *

When Ivory had drifted off to speak with Florivet Heron moved closer to Julline.

"Are you upset that I spoiled your secret?" she asked him, smiling.

Heron shook his head. "Not really. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to talk about business. I need access to the libraries again. Can you still make that happen?"

She grabbed one of the lines and pulled it, trimming the jib. As she tied the rope off she said, "I can, but what's in it for me?"

Heron did not reply immediately, his gaze drifting out over the sand. "You get my presence," he said after several seconds.

"So the pleasure of your company is all you're offering?"

"I am offering you the peace of mind that I am not dealing with another of the by-blows. The pleasure of my company is a reminder to any enemies you have made that you have allies in unexpected places."

"When you say it like that, you do make it hard to refuse."

"Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal." Julline nodded.

* * *

Music - For when Heron tells his story (and a lot of time when Heron is in Malfeas) The Black Parade by My Chemical Romance

And for those who wanted to know how Heron Exalted, hope this met your expectations :)


	14. Dawn in Whitewall

**Dawn in Whitewall**

* * *

The city of Whitewall commanded the valley it occupied. Ten miles across, the city dominated among the patchwork of farms and orchards around it. The walls which it was named for were fifteen yards high, and six across, a barrier that few in the North would have the power to breach.

The Traveler's Road ran straight into the valley, and right up to the city's huge, single gate. The road was 20 yards wide, made of white, granite, and travellers who walked upon it were easily seen.

As the sun rose over the Black Crag Mountains to illuminate the valley one of the night watchmen looked down on the road and spotted a small group of travellers. They rode upon long legged mounts; probably horses or reindeers. A number of other animals followed, loaded down with packs.

"Strangers coming along the road," he called down through the watchtower's hatch.

"This early?" a puzzled voice asked. "Look threatening?"

The watchman looked across the valley floor to the riders. "Not really," he called down.

"Keep an eye on them, give the bell a ring if you get a bad sense of them. I'll kick some of the archers awake."

A few minutes later the watch sergeant climbed up into the tower. He was a middle-aged man, thick black hair, heavy athletic build. The leather straps of his armour creaked as he pushed into the small space, leaned out to look at the road. "Farmers on the road?"

"Few," the watchman answered.

"Riders giving them any trouble?"

"No."

"Probably not going to cause any problems then. Looks like they are on reindeer. Barbarians looking to trade maybe."

"Maybe sergeant."

The two watched, curious about an otherwise uneventful morning. Below them the guardhouse and the city beyond were coming awake. The riders reached the gates while they were still closed.

No one called up to request the gates be opened, or to ask about how soon until they opened. Instead, one of the riders, a brown haired woman in a long, fur cloak, climbed from her reindeer. She walked to one of the pack animals, untied something covered in sacking, and then tossed the contents across the road where it landed on the packed dirt at the side.

"Is that…" the watchman asked.

"I think it is."

Another cloth wrapped bundle was untied, and another of the grisly trophies was thrown off to join the first.

"Send a runner to get a captain," the sergeant said. "I think someone high-up is going to want to see this."

* * *

"Did you really kill all twelve?" the captain asked. She was a young woman, tall, plain and while apparently easily excited, seemed to know her job.

"I did," Sparrow told her, and smiled. "Dead great terrors are not something you just find."

The captain looked surprised. "I did not mean to suggest you were trying to trick anyone," she said quickly, "just, well, twelve…"

"No offence given," Sparrow told her. "And it was surprisingly easy to find twelve. They tend you come to you."

The captain nodded, eyes wide. "But they are hunting you."

"They think they are hunting you."

"She's being modest," Kiyoshi said. He walked behind them, along with Dreaming Blue. "Five of those things are female."

"A pack?" The captain's eyes grew wider, which Sparrow would not have thought possible.

Sparrow was beginning to think that she might have gone a little overboard.

"She suckered them in close and just ripped into them when they got too close," Kiyoshi said. "If I had not seen it myself I would not have believed it."

Sparrow looked over her shoulder at the man, somewhat surprised by the tone in his voice. The mix of wonder and reverence were unexpected.

"I wish I could have seen it," the Captain said. She had led them from the gate, towards the Syndics hall. All around were the shops, stables, caravansaries and teahouses of Foretown. The area was coming awake, and many people were busy preparing for the upcoming summer market season.

Busy as people were, many watched as Sparrow and the others passed. It seemed rumours were already spreading ahead of them.

They passed through Midtown, even busier than Foretown, for farmers and miners were directing wagons loaded with tools towards the gates. The buildings in that part of the city were older, with many of the structures looking as if they had been repurposed over the centuries creating a sense of strangeness. After a time of walking through Midtown they passed near the tallest building in the city.

It was a temple, with grand spires and friezes that proclaimed the glory of a single god. Among the iconography Sparrow recognized her own caste symbol, as well as those of her solar companions. It was obvious the temple was one of the Unconquered Sun. Grand as it was, it looked deserted. Sparrow stopped for a time to look up at it.

"Does anyone live there?" she finally asked.

The Captain shook her head. "Only the chosen of the sun may enter."

The desire to enter herself was strong, but Sparrow put it aside for the moment and let the Captain escort them further.

Afton was the farther from the gate, the most well to do section of the city. Fewer people were stirring, possibly still asleep, or just getting ready for the day. Servants moved about the street, carrying bread and other products up from Midtown. The rumours from the gates seemed to have slowed for fewer people watched them with such rapt interest.

Near the middle of Afton was a temple-palace, its architecture displaying what the other buildings in the city, aside from the temple at the city's centre, had only hinted at. It was of the first age, with architecture that had no one had managed to match in the sadder second and third ages of Creation.

They passed through a set of wide, tall doors, into a foyer lit by skylights, cleverly placed mirrors, and essence lamps. The white tiled floor was polished, and a carpet of gold cloth stretched from the doors to a grand staircase of the same, white stone as the floor.

There were guards in the room, outfitted in steel half plate edged in polished bronze, armed with spears and swords. They stood in groups of four near the doors, and the stairs, as well as watching over the other entrances into the foyer.

The captain, in her simple steel breastplate and fur lined, buff jacket, seemed out of place, but if she was uncomfortable about being in such company none of that showed as she walked along the carpet towards the stairs and a desk that Sparrow had not really noticed amongst everything else.

"Captain Farven of the Night Gate Guard," she said to the old man who sat at the desk. "I sent a runner up."

The man nodded as he placed his hand upon a piece of paper. "I received your message." He looked from the Captain to Sparrow, Kiyoshi and then Dreaming Blue; Sparrow noticed his gaze seemed to drift away from Dreaming Blue as if he did not quite see her. "My name is Demma Ulnn, one of Whitewall's senior Inspectors."

"Sparrow Hawk. My Companions Kiyoshi Cathak and Dreaming Blue."

"I welcome you. You have the city's official thanks for dealing with the Great Horrors. The fewer such creatures present, the safer our citizens."

Sparrow nodded.

"Official thanks aside, I would like to know why your have dropped the heads and pelts of twelve such creatures at our gates."

"Call it a diplomatic opening," Sparrow told him.

Demma nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. His expression changed to one more open. "Forgive me for making you stand here." He got to his feet, slowly, carefully, likely in defence to old joints. "Let us talk in someplace more comfortable. Captain Farven, you may return to your post."

"Uh, yes sir." She looked towards Sparrow. "Perhaps, if you would like to learn more of the city, I could…"

"Thank you for your offer" Demma said, cutting off the Captain. "I will keep your interest in mind."

Seeming to realize she had overstepped her bounds she nodded, then turned and walked towards the door.

Sparrow thanked the woman before she had gone too far, and Captain Farven looked over her shoulder and offered Sparrow a quick smile.

"Please, come this way." The Inspector indicated that Sparrow should walk beside him.

Sparrow stood a few steps from him as they walked at a moderate pace. After a moment she said, "I hope the captain will not suffer from any sort of official displeasure." She was careful in her tone, not quite making it a suggestion.

"Not to worry," Demma said. "Have you ever been to Whitewall before?"

"No, this is my first time."

"First time for me as well," Kiyoshi said.

Dreaming Blue did not answer.

"We are something of a besieged city. Punishing our soldiers for not following political niceties is unwise."

"I am glad to hear that."

He nodded as they passed through a door into a hallway. "What do you think of our city?"

"It is well ordered. The citizens look well off."

"That is kind of you to say." He sounded pleased.

He led them into a room, in which a servant was just pouring tea and laying out various light foods. There was also a young man seated near the back of the room, pens and papers on the desk he sat at. Sparrow thought it was likely they were to ignore the clerk, which made her more curious about the man.

"Please sit, rest and refresh yourself," Demma told them as he himself took a seat.

Once they were all seated and had cups of teas Demma started simply by asking, "Are you the Sparrow who ended the Mask of Winters?"

"I will neither confirm nor deny," Sparrow told him, and took a drink. "It does not reflect on the reasons I am here."

Gemma looked slightly surprised. "Why are you here?"

"This is a trade mission. Have you heard the Ice Tree."

The old man took a drink from his tea before answering, "I have heard the name. It is a place, is it not. Near the lands claimed by the Halsanti league."

"I am building airships there. I will need to buy supplies over the coming years. Whitewall is well situated to supply me with metal goods, and perhaps you will one day be a market for the ships."

"The implications of a trade deal like that, as well as what it would mean to our Halsanti neighbours if we were to start buying airships aside, why the Great Horrors?"

Sparrow smiled. "I thought it would likely give me the opportunity to immediately speak to someone in power. Which is has."

He smiled uncertainly. She knew he did not believe her, but he could not call her a liar. It would be impolite and impolitic. She looked over at the clerk, still suspecting that he was more than he seemed, but his attention seemed focused on the notes he was writing.

"Have you arranged a place to stay?" Demma asked her, as if he was grasping for something to say.

"Not yet," Sparrow told him. "I suspect that we can find someplace in the city."

"Very well," he said, and took a drink of his tea. "If you would send word as to where you are staying, the Syndics may wish to offer their thanks. And I will see about covering some of your expenses perhaps."

"I will," Sparrow said. "Thank you for taking the time to speak to us, and for the refreshment."

He put his cup down and got this his feet. Sparrow stood as well. "Again, our thanks for removing the threat of those creatures, and I hope your business within Whitewall will be profitable."

They said their goodbyes and Sparrow and the others left the government halls.

"We're being followed, three people," Kiyoshi said.

"Four," Dreaming Blue corrected.

"Whatever. What'd you think?" he asked Sparrow.

"I'd be disappointed if they were not mistrustful. They story I told them was mostly shit."

"I liked how he looked when you said we were on a trade mission."

"We are here to do some buying."

Kihoshi smiled.

"Have either of you ever been here before?"

"Nope," Kiyoshi said.

Dreaming Blue shook her head.

"I think we'll see if we can find a place to stay Midtown. Close to the temple if we can."

* * *

"Wake up!"

Red was shaking Blue out of her slumber and she mumbled, "Leave me alone neesan," as she burrowed deeper into her bedding.

"Get up you slug," Red said, and yanked hard enough on the cover to pull them free and dump Blue out of her bed and face first onto the floor.

Blue raised her head and looked up from the floor at her sister. "Please tell me the city is being invaded neesan. I don't want to kill you."

"Better," Red said, crouching down next to Blue. "They say that Sparrow is in the city. Apparently she killed anywhere between ten and a hundred great horrors and dumped the bodies by the gate before being invited in."

Blue frowned. "Is that… Is that a new rule for entering the city?"

"No, don't be stupid."

Blue shifted about so she sat on the floor. "Sparrow, as in Sparrow who killed the Mask of Winters?"

"One in the same," Red said, excitement obvious in her voice. "Probably."

"Probably. Wait. Since when you are excited about Sparrow Hawk?"

Red flushed. "Since she showed up here."

"Well, that's hardly fair. I liked her before that."

"You'd jump on any fad. You're interest is always shallow."

Blue got to her feet. "That's not true. Well, mostly. I've depth when it comes to the important things."

Red straightened as well, reached behind her and picked up Blue's robe. "Go and get ready," she said, handed the robe to her sister. "And let's go and see if she is one of the important things."

* * *

Sparrow had left the others almost as soon as she had dropped her things off in the rented room. The temple still called at her, and she made her way directly there. She was probably being followed, but did not really care. She was not going to hide who she was; she could not if she hoped to gather allies.

Soon she stood in front of the stairs: gracefully curved, forming a bow that would face the rising sun, as if welcoming it into the temple. She started up the southern flight of the white steps, walking slowly, reverently, the weight of the place like a physical thing. Some people saw her, a few even called out. Sparrow ignored them.

She stood in front of the white, stone doors, their surfaces covered in golden inlay, depicting scenes of the Unconquered Sun's deeds. Taking a breath she put her hands on the doors and pushed.

Each must have weighed many tonnes, but they swung open smoothly, silently, speaking of precision that she could hardly credit.

The vast cathedral that she entered was made of white marble and gold. Like in the government building mirrors helped to amplify the light coming through the stained glass windows, but the effect was so much greater.

Her steps echoed against the stone and gold floor as she crossed the open hall, walking towards the altar behind which stood the golden representation of the Unconquered Sun. Thousands of worshipers could have stood within the cathedral; she pictured them streaming in through the huge front doors filling the holy temple.

There was a clear window behind the Unconquered Sun's statue. Looking over her shoulder she saw a similar one opposite, high above the doors. Twice a day, she thought, the sun would shine fully and most brightly into the cathedral; Sparrow supposed they were the most holy times, when the worshippers would most want to be part of the ceremony.

Finally she stood at the foot of the raised altar, looking up at the relatively simple block of marble and the gold inlay that almost obscured the stone's surface. So close, looking almost straight up, she could hardly see the statue behind it, knew she would not have been able to see whoever had been leading the congregation.

There were stairs that lead up to the altar; she climbed them. Behind the altar, close to the base of the golden statue, were seats and benches, the first she had seen in the cathedral. Of course, the Law Givers and their most important servants need not stand for an entire ceremony.

She turned and walked up a short flight of steps, to stand behind the altar, looking out over the cathedral floor. Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she thought she might cry.

"I believe I felt the same way," a voice echoed out in the silence.

Sparrow turned and looked towards the statue, to a man who stepped out from behind the base. It was the man who had played the clerk when Sparrow had met with Demma.

He was tall, fair haired and fair skinned. He wore a white cloak embroidered in golden thread, his hair worn long and lose.

"I am Sparrow as…" she said, and she started as her voice echoed loudly in the space, reaching the far walls and bouncing back.

She took several quick steps down and away from the altar. She looked towards the man, seeing he was smiling. She smiled as well, and tried again. "I am Sparrow," she said, the strange acoustic qualities from when she stood at the altar were not present and her voice, while seeming loud, did not have the booming quality. "As you know," she continued. "You have me at a disadvantage."

"I am Rune, Eclipse Caste of the Unconquered Sun, Diplomatic aide to the Syndics and Whitewall."

"Sparrow, Sparrow Hawk, Sparrow of the Eyrie, Dawn Caste of the Unconquered Sun and commander of the Ice Tree Sky Fleet." She considered Rune, how different he was from Heron. She wondered how different other Dawn Castes would be compared to her.

"Sky Fleet?"

"In name only for the moment, but give me a little time."

Rune nodded, staring at her for several seconds. "Forgive me, but for someone who destroyed the Mask of Winters I thought you be taller."

"I get that." She moved a few steps closer. "However I was not the smallest person on that battlefield."

"Perhaps I will hear that story someday. Why have you come to Whitewall?"

"Why are you here?"

"I was born here and as such am very protective."

She took a few steps back, looked around. "No one else comes here?"

"The manse will attack anyone but Solars who try to enter."

"Was that always the case?"

"I don't know. Are you avoiding the question?"

"Just curious mostly." She turned her full attention back to Rune. "I came here seeking followers. I need more Dragon Bloods and awakened mortals."

"You are talking about some of the strongest defenders of Whitewall."

"Which understandably upsets you."

He frowned.

"I don't plan to take every defender Whitewall has, even assuming I could. Just a handful that would have left anyway. And my method of recruitment will be of use to you."

He was quiet for a moment, then said, "How so?"

"I kill something big."

"Bigger than twelve great horrors?"

"Much bigger."

"We cannot afford to go to war with a Death Lord."

Sparrow held up her hands, taking a step back from the anger in his eyes, staying calm and resisting the urge to reach for her weapon. "Too big. Something in-between. I'll know it when I see it."

"You'll know it when you see it?"

"It will be a direct threat to Whitewall, and killing it will result in people wanting to swear service to me as well as a reduction in the danger to the city."

"I don't like this game you are playing," he told her, taking a few steps towards her. "Anything you do might put this city in danger, and I will not have it just so you can get some bodies."

Sparrow kept herself from jumping back, met his gaze, ignored the sound of her beating heart in her ears. "Do you really need another enemy?"

That quieted him for a moment, and Sparrow spoke before he could answer. "I can be an ally, or I can be an uncertainty you'll have to live with."

He took another step forward, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword. "Or I can deal with you here."

"And when my allies come?"

"I will deal with them when they arrive," he told her, sounding sure of himself, his posture shifting to an aggressive one.

Sparrow stepped forward, quickly, she caught the hilt of his sword in the palm of her hand, ignoring the fear signals being so close to a strange man engendered within her. He had only drawn a hand's span of steel from the scabbard when Sparrow halted the draw. They stood toe to toe, Sparrow looking up at him.

"Can you deal with me?" she asked him, her other hand held the hilt of her own sheathed sword, but there was nothing that would stop her draw.

He considered her for several seconds, shifting his stance slightly, as if looking for an opening. Finally he released his sword, letting it slide back into the sheath. "It's not worth it to find out right now." He was probably trying to sound dismissive, but did not quite manage it. "I want you to keep me informed of your plans."

"Fair enough," she said.

He stepped back. "There are apartments and offices beyond the cathedral. If you wish to make use of them, feel free. This is one of the most comfortable places in the city."

"Thank you."

They stared at each other for several more seconds, then Rune turned and walked away, climbing down from the altar and crossing the cathedral floor. Sparrow remained where she was, staring up at the statue.

* * *

The forty soldiers that had joined the Wyld Hunt were a mix of young and old, a few of them might be a little green, but all had been well trained, a number of them veterans. Anzar watched them as they listened to the monks. The way they nodded and answered back with praises to the Dragons made it obvious they were pious enough for Deled, which was saying something.

Lookshy had picked out forty soldiers that were happy to join a Wyld Hunt, eager really. Forty they were sending off to die, to get rid of a troublesome group now that change was coming.

Perhaps Anzar's view of things was overly pessimistic, but he did not think so.

He walked along the outer deck, stopping where the spray from the paddle wheels could cover him in the fine mist. Normally the river boat was driven by oxen, turning the gears that spun the paddle wheels.

After the third time the ship had docked to switch out the oxen teams Deled's sorcerer monks had summoned several demons to take over. The demons did not tire and were strong enough that the crew had to keep the wooden shafts and gears constantly greased lest they catch fire.

Driven by demons the boat sailed up river faster than any other craft on the water, either going down or up river. They were closing on Vinleau faster than he had thought possible.

He wondered what he was going to do when they arrived.

Ahead of him several soldiers came out on the deck. They were the soldiers Lookshy had sent to see to the protection of the citizens of the River Province. Unlike the ones who had joined the hunt the protectors were senior soldiers, made up of medics and engineers. Anzar had no doubt they could fight if necessary, but their first duty was protection.

One of them looked towards him, then looked away. They spoke quietly amongst themselves then one broke off from the others and walked towards Anzar.

Stopping beyond the spray he said, "Do you have a moment Ragara-san?"

Anzar nodded as he stepped out of the spray. "What's your name?"

"Sergeant Feriz."

"You have a questions Feriz?"

"Can you tell me what we can expect in Vinleau?"

Anzar did not answer immediately, seeking any tone of mocking in the question. It seemed polite enough so he answered, "They are farmers. They will not riot when we arrive. They will be polite enough. Many may not be happy to see me."

Sergeant Feriz nodded. "And if the Anathema come?"

"Yes, what if the Anathema come?"

How Deled had approached without Anzar hearing him was something of a mystery. The Master of the Pinnacle stood only a few steps away. Sergeant Feriz took a few steps back, bowing hastily.

Anzar dipped his head politely, not sure what to say, buying time with the action. Finally he said, "They will not attack us if we are within Vinleau."

"Why?" Deled demanded.

How to answer that in a way that would not anger him? "They want to maintain a good reputation, so they can easier corrupt the gullible. They will not fight in the middle of Vinleau."

Anzar did not actually know if that was true. He suspected that Heron and Sparrow were quite capable of making precision strikes.

True or not Deled seemed to accept it. "Then we will make sure they do not have an excuse." He said no more, just turned and walked away.

Anzar watched him go, focused on the man's broad back. He forgot Feriz until the man said, "He is everything they say."

Looking back he saw Feriz what had to be a carefully schooled look of neutrality on his face. His words could be taken many ways. Anzar nodded. "That is so."

"Ragara-san, would you care to join us?"

It was a polite request, one of the few that Anzar had received in some time. The soldiers were respectful, but not fawning, and Anzar thought he might enjoy the time in their company.

"Thank you, I will."

* * *

Sparrow had spent a long time in the temple, meditating on the place and the god it honoured. When she eventually stepped from the cathedral, out into the city, standing atop the stairs, the sun was high in the sky. There were people in the area, some watching her, but none so obvious in it as the two women, each who stood at the bottom of one of the stair cases.

Red hair like fire on one, blue black hair like water on the other. She turned and started down the stairs that would lead her to the red head. The one with the blue hair walked across the space to join the red head.

When Sparrow reached the bottom of the stairs she found herself facing twins, identical but for their hair colour. They were both taller than Sparrow, and their matching blue eyes were fixed on her.

"If you are going to say you thought I would be taller I don't want to hear it," Sparrow told them.

The red head laughed softly and the other smiled. "Noted," they both said nearly synchronously.

"I am Red," The red head told her, "and this is my littler sister Blue." She pointed at her companion.

"Red and Blue?" Sparrow asked, incredulity thick in her voice.

"Not the names we were given," Blue told her, "not when we were born."

"Names we like now," Red told her.

"I am Sparrow."

"We know," Red said. "Not to be rude about it."

"We've wanted to meet you," Blue said. "We've wanted to meet a Solar, one who was not Rune."

"What's wrong with Rune?"

"He's too focused on this city." She waved her hand around to indicate the area. "He should be focused on Creation."

"I'm not focused on Creation," Sparrow said.

"You killed the Mask of Winters." Red smiled.

"I had help in that, and I did not come here to kill a Death Lord."

"What did you come here to kill?"

Sparrow shrugged her shoulders. "I have not decided yet."

The two sisters smiled.

"A lot of potential targets," Red told her.

It was for the opportunity to meet people like the sisters that Sparrow had come here, but of course she did not know if she could trust them. Heron would know, but Heron would have different ways to attract followers.

"Why have you come looking for me? Why do you care what happens in Creation as a whole?"

The sisters looked at each other from a moment. "Do you know anything about the Golden Janissary style?" Red asked her.

"Never heard of it I am afraid."

"You both practice Golden Janissary?" Dreaming Blue asked.

Sparrow turned to look at the Sidereal. She had the feeling that the other woman had been there all along, and was not surprised at her presence, and yet at the same time Sparrow could not clearly recall Dreaming Blue's prior presence.

"Yes, we do," Blue said.

"Have we met?" Red asked her.

Sparrow looked between Terrestrials and Sidereal, noting that neither seemed to be particularly bothered by Dreaming Blue's presence, though Red showed some unease.

"This is my advisor, Dreaming Blue. Dreaming Blue, the sisters Red and Blue."

Dreaming Blue nodded and then looked to Sparrow. "The nature of Golden Janissary is a holy style particularly suited to fighting creatures of darkness; demons, dead and fair folk in particular."

"That seems like something I should have heard of."

"Yeah, you'd think," Blue said.

"As useful and powerful as the style could be, the Immaculate Order has had some issues with it. One is that the style is secular, and the other is the golden fire that accompanies some of the more powerful techniques. Immaculates find that suspicious."

"I would suppose so." Sparrow looked at the sisters once more. "And why perhaps you would seek out a Solar?"

"We don't necessarily accept the Immaculate Doctrine on this," Red told her.

"Who was your teacher?" Dreaming Blue asked them.

"Iselsi Daichi, also called Master…"

"Of the Golden Fire, yes, I know of him," Dreaming Blue said. "I had heard his Dojo outside of Gem was destroyed by Immaculate monks about fifteen years ago."

Red nodded. "They came in numbers in the dead of night, killed many of the students." Her tone was flat.

"Was your father killed?"

"No."

"The style is not as strong against anything that's not a creature of Darkness," Blue told Sparrow, "but our father had mastered other styles, and he made sure that his students mastered others as well. Only the most junior of students were killed. Father, Red and I, and the senior students fought the attackers off."

"What happened to your father?" Dreaming Blue asked.

"He left, said he needed to find a new pinnacle for the style," Red answered, her tone more animated.

"He sent us away, all the students," Blue added. "Told us to find someplace safe and master our arts. Red and I came here."

"So you have not heard from him?"

"Why do you care?" Red asked.

Dreaming Blue looked surprised for a moment, the expression crossing her face, gone in a moment. "He's a skilled martial artist."

The sisters looked towards each other, as if considering the answer. Sparrow asked, "What would you want out of a Solar?"

Red and Blue looked towards Sparrow. "Answers," Red told her. "To know if father was right."

"He did not think that Solars were evil, he did not believe the Anathema story."

"Just dangerous. There's nothing wrong with being dangerous."

"We want to see what you can do, and we want to do so much more than fight the small battles."

"Give me time to think about this," Sparrow told them.

"About what?"

"About what I am going to do, and if I want to be the answer you seek."

"But…."

Sparrow held up a hand, silencing Blue. "Give me time to think about it."

"Very well," Red answered for both. "If you want to find us our names are well known. Come on Blue."

Blue seemed hesitant to go, but after a moment she turned to follow her sister. Sparrow watched them leave. "What do you think?" she asked as she started walking.

Dreaming Blue walked beside Sparrow. "They are the type of people who you came to seek."

"Their father, you know him?"

"Not personally. I have heard of him. He would be about three centuries old now, it was about two hundred years that he left the Realm behind. Of course it was not unheard of for any of the Iselsi family to leave the Realm."

"Oh?"

"They have been in disgrace for quite some time, after a failed revolution," Dreaming Blue told her, stumbling on a bit of uneven pavement. "It is likely no one gave it much thought when he left, but I think he left so he could pursue Golden Janissary without censure."

"Do you know if he had daughters?"

Dreaming Blue raised her hand in a dismissive gesture. "I had heard he had children, but not the details."

"So what do you think of them?"

"They are exactly," she stressed 'exactly' "what you hoped to find. I would say that is suspicious."

"So you don't trust them?"

Dreaming Blue was silent for several seconds. "Nothing they said was a lie."

Sparrow thought about that and what the two had said. "I believe them."

"That is your choice."

"I have done this before you know. Before I was Exalted I was a ship's captain and had to choose crew I could trust."

"I may not have heard the story right, but did not one of your officers mutiny and try to kill you?"

"I've learned things since then."

* * *

"What do you think of her?" Blue asked her sister.

"I really did think she would be taller."

"I know. I mean, she looks strong, but I wouldn't have looked at her twice if I didn't know, and hadn't seen her come out of the temple."

"True, but, I was watching her while we spoke, and she did not give me an opening during the entire conversation."

Blue pursed her lips, a thoughtful look on her face. "Well," she finally said, "dad could do that."

"He said that it took him nearly two hundred years to learn that. Sparrow couldn't even be thirty…"

"I'd say barely in her twenties," Blue interrupted.

"…not even half our age and she's already got that," Red continued. "There is a lot we can learn."

"And teach."

"Maybe, but I think she will pick up what we have to offer faster than what we will master what she can give us."


	15. A City of Brass

**A City of Brass**

* * *

The wind had blown in the Foremost Gale's sails for the entire journey, and the ship had made terrific speed, and yet it had taken them the five full days to make the it to the city of brass.

Heron stood near the bow, pulling on the jib line, watching the city rapidly grow to dominate his sight. Looking over his shoulder, back at the desert they had traversed, he saw Ivory at the tiller, with Florivet guiding her hands. She was smiling as she directed the ship towards their final destination.

Beside him stood Julline, leaning forward over the rail, eyes focused on the city, more specifically, he knew, the small fiefdom she controlled.

"Sails down," Florivet ordered.

Julline and Heron moved quickly to lower the sails and Florivet directed Ivory to heave on the tiller. The Foremost Gale came about smartly, drifting backwards through the sand, stopping a handspan from the brass and stone street.

"A safe journey, as promised," the demon said to Heron.

"You have my thanks," Heron said.

"I would prefer a favour."

"No promises," Heron told Florivet.

"And what about you little sorceress?" he asked Ivory.

Ivory gazed up at him, a thoughtful look on her face. "If I need to summon you I'll do my best to get lots of alcohol and a pretty girl."

"I suppose that is the best I might hope for."

"Come on," Julline said as she grabbed up a small bag that contained her things.

Heron led Ivory below decks where they gathered up their gear. "Be careful with Florivet," he told her, his voice soft, and then gave her a gentle push to the small of her back, sending her back onto deck.

Florivet was already raising the sails of the Foremost Gale, preparing to leave. Julline had jumped down and stood on the sand that ended the road.

Heron handed Ivory down and then leapt down to join the two of them.

The Foremost Gale slid through the sand, passing close by as the wind filled its sails. It tacked along the edge of the city before turning back out into the desert.

All three watched it sail off, then Julline stepped off the sand and onto the street. "Welcome to Way of the Hopeful Slave. It is small, but it is my fiefdom," she smiled at Heron, "as you know."

Heron stepped up, the brass beneath his foot ringing softly as his boot sole hit it. The vast city that was Malfeas rose up above him, and fell down below him, for it was not bound by the laws of Creation. It was made up of shells, covered in cities, pushed close together; with the constant threat of those shells colliding to crush what had been built on them.

The green sun shone down on everything and everywhere. There was the ubiquitous sound of music, and thousands of hanging chimes rang softly. In the distance he saw the eye catching beauty of one of the manses of Amalion.

Beside him Ivory opened her parasol as she looked about. "There is so much," she said.

Heron nodded. "Vast beyond reasoning."

"What is that place?" she asked, having seen him gaze at the far off manse.

"Amalion. Her body. On every layer of Malfeas you will find one."

"Amalion?"

"If you want to learn about building manses, seek her out Golden Eyes. She is the most gentle of Malfeas' souls."

"How gentle is that?"

Heron thought about it for a moment. "A good quesiton."

Julline had walked away, leaving them behind. Heron gave Ivory a few more seconds to take the sights in and then set off after the demon. "Come on."

He caught up to Julline as she passed close to one of the marching bands that filled the area with music. A few of the demons were skilled with their instruments, but they were nearly drowned out by those that were not skilled at all.

Ivory, who was running after them, commented on it.

"As long as they make noise," Julline told her, "I am pleased enough with their music, but if you seek better quality then there are other places in Malfeas to go."

"Most of them are hoping to learn," Heron told her. "That's why this place is called the Street of the Hopeful Slave."

"I don't understand," Ivory said.

"Most demons are simply serfs, with no rights, and no ability to be anything else. The ones that come here hope to master a skill to such an extent that they could become citizens."

"Don't their masters get mad?"

Julline smiled. "Some do, but most care little for what their serfs do, as long as there are some at hand when they need them. And, the skills they learn, even if they do not become citizens, make them more valuable."

"Which means they are indebted to the master of the Street of the Hopeful Slave, to a small extent," Heron said, "and those that do become citizens owe to a larger extent."

"It is a useful position to be in," Julline said smugly.

Ivory nodded, as if she understood. "What can they learn here?"

"Anything they wish," Julline said grandly as she spread her arms and wings. "Music, poetry, weaving, literature, brass smithing, weapons forging, alchemy," she spun, her hand pointing out various buildings, "the art of the courtesan, of the assassin, of the courtesan assassin." She laughed. "There are places in Malfeas where more skilled teachers reside, but few where you will find such a variety." She lowered her arms and wings.

"What do you teach?" Ivory asked.

"Follow me Golden Eyes, and I will show you." She set off down the road.

Heron put a hand on Ivory's shoulder and directed her to follow.

They passed more shops and schools, several more bands, a large, garish structure outside of which brightly painted demons were posed provocatively; learning the art of the courtesan, Heron supposed.

The building at the end of the road was not the largest, nor the grandest, but it occupied the most prestigious position, and a line of buyers stood outside of it waiting to be served.

Many called out to Julline as she passed them by, but she ignored them. A few, upon seeing Heron, ducked their heads, or behind other demons. A few actually ran. It appeared he was not forgotten.

Julline circled around the building, ignoring the front door, and led them through a side door, into the shop.

Heron counted about thirty demons, of various types, working the shop. Several were gathered around the acid vat, distilling it off, while others worked small forges.

Julline saw him looking around and moved closer to him. "I have to turn away potential apprentices now."

"You've come quite far."

She turned so they stood face to face. "Thanks to you."

Heron shook his head. "You will not lay the blame on me."

She laughed, as Heron expected her to.

"So tell me, what are you really here for?"

"Nothing in particular, I just want to broaden my and Golden Eyes' knowledge."

She looked at him, frowned. "It hurts that you have become so good at lying I am unable to tell."

"Perhaps I have not and I am telling you the truth."

Her lips pursed in concentration; seeming to give the statement an inordinate amount of thought.

Ivory had wandered among the working demons, looking over their work. Heron kept an eye on her.

"No, I believe you are lying," she finally said, "and that makes me wonder what else you have become so good at. Quite a number of your skills were breathtaking, it makes me tremble to think of the levels of proficientcy you may have achieved." Julline moved closer to him, her wings opening behind her, as if they might sweep forward to envelop them both.

Heron put two fingers against her chest, just below her collarbone. "There are few that I plan to display."

"Hardly fair." Her wings settled back and she moved a step away.

"What is fair in hell?"

"Point."

Ivory had climbed on a stool and batted at the hand of a blood ape who was trying to stop her from doing something. Heron thought he might have to step in, but the demon only growled and left the girl alone.

"I am here for as little time as possible. I have no doubt that short as that time is I will end up displaying at least a few of the skill you are interested in." He smiled.

She took another step back. "Why does that sound like a threat?"

"Because you have sharpened survival skills."

She nodded. "What a subtle and telling threat."

"I do my best."

"I will pass on the request to get you access to the libraries before the Tomescu have screamed twice."

"Good."

"There is a room above the shop you can use, you'll find food and water there. Please excuse me, I have work to do." She turned and walked further into the workshop. She called two demons to her side and passed through a door.

Heron waited for Ivory to grow tired of her examinations of the workshop. When she finally returned to Heron's side she was smiling, looking pleased.

"Let's step outside Golden Eyes," he said.

She nodded. "Okay."

The street was as busy and lively as it had been, busier in fact.

Ivory must have noticed for she asked, "Do you think they came 'cause of you?"

"Us, and probably," Heron told her.

"We're entertainment?"

"And opportunity, never forget opportunity." Heron looked up at one of the huge shells of brass and black marble overhead. "We are in the body of Malfeas, all the shells are part of him. The Green Sun shines over every part of him, you are never out from under its eye, except when the Ebon Dragon passes overhead, and you do not want to be caught in that shadow. The other Yozi are also bound up within and around the city. Do you understand?"

Ivory had been listening, nodding at his words. She was silent for a few seconds and then said, "I think so."

"Do not trust any of them."

"What about Julline?"

Heron looked down at her, saw she was not questioning him, just seeking some final bit of confirmation. "Julline was mortal once, demon blooded, but mortal. She came here, by her own choice, sought out endowment that would turn her into a true demon, and became a prisoner, for power.

"Those eight demons she needed killed were also Florivet's by-blows, her half brothers and sisters." Heron paused. "None of them even considered working together."

"I understand," Ivory told him, her tone serious.

Heron looked back to the far off shells of the demon city. "We're not going to find what we are looking for in Orabilis' libraries, at least I do not think we will."

"Then how?"

"We need to attract the attention of someone who knows, who will tell us, and who will keep our confidence."

"Sounds hard."

"Impossible is the word I use, but," he looked at Ivory, smiled at her in a manner he knew was unfair, and said, "we do the impossible all the time, don't we Golden Eyes."

Ivory nodded and smiled back. "Right!"

Heron started walking down the street, no real destination in mind, but he wanted to get a feel for the place. "Tell me of the weapons that Julline is making."

Ivory had put up her parasol and hurried after Heron. "They distill the vats of acid…"

"Vitriol. It is called vitriol, and you can find rivers of it flowing through some areas of the city."

"Vitriol. They distill the vitriol and subject it to an alchemic process that turns it into a powder. It's like fire dust, but set off by essence. They pack the dust into brass cartridges and cap them with iron balls."

"The ammunition."

"Yes."

"How powerful."

Ivory did not answer for a few seconds. "I looked at some targets…. Maybe as powerful as a good long bow. The weapons are well made… mostly. There's a clever little essence reactor in each, stores and amplifies what you feed into it, see," her free hand, the one not holding the parasol, was held in front of her, and she twirled her finger in the air. "Round and round and round, gettin' more r'fined, but," she spread her fingers and made a 'bang' sound, "left too long it all dissipates, wasted.

"And the powder, it's still acidic. I saw a couple of older cartridges that were badly corroded, and looked at some of the powder pieces they were fixin'. Could see corrosion inside the barrels and in the other metal parts.

"You've seen them before?"

"Yes," Heron said.

"Are they better than they used to be?" Ivory asked.

Heron shook his head. "Not really, Julline's been working on the designs for decades, maybe centuries, from what I have found out. A useful enough weapon to make her valuable, but so much as to change the nature of battle in the demon city."

"She's lookin' for a way to mass pr'duce them," Ivory told him.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"That is interesting."

"She wasn't before?"

"There was never enough call for the weapons. I suppose some demon prince has decided to give them a try."

Heron stopped on a bridge, below which flowed a river of obsidian dust. "Still, we had better be watchful, and Golden Eyes, if you think of a way to improve on the design, don't say anything."

"Understood."

* * *

Five days were required to cross the desert of Cecelyne, no matter how fast one might travel. Five days, whether walked, sailed, or flown. Talmon had flown, but the sands of the Endless Desert were bound to every layer of Malfeas and the agata did not return to the City at the Street of the Hopeful Slave, but another place entirely.

Along the border of the Quarter Principality, where Octavian ruled, was a small fiefdom. In time it would be swallowed up by the Quarter Principality, and Octavian's lust to conquer. For now though it as a raucous place of mercenaries and soldiers, there to put the day of annexation off for as long as possible.

And there was a place where soldiers and mercenaries gathered, a bar called the Black Tongue; it was there that Talmon flew. It landed near the door, folded its wings close, and stepped almost daintily into the establishment.

Few people gave the agata much attention, crowded as the Black Tongue was with demons of all sorts. Talmon moved its jewelled head back and forth, compound eyes seeking the dark corners. Spotting who it sought the agata crossed the room, towards a foggy cloud near the back of the room. From the cloud limbs emerged for a moment before slipping back, each limb ending in a weapon.

The Tomescu was one of the few that did not feel compelled to scream over its fate; the knowledge of its death. It was called Jiiton, and Talmon was uncomfortable around the sanguine tomescu as any demon, but it was something of a friend.

And it liked to talk.

When it saw Talmom its voice emerged from the cloud, welcoming her. "Pleased to see you Talmon, were you not headed to Creation?"

"I was, I did not stay long."

"You killed your summoner?"

The agata shook its head. "No. Was mind ridden by Florivet to bring some worthies into the desert."

"My sympathies. Who were the guests."

"Jade Eyes the Gate Breaker and his sorceress."

"The Gate Breaker? How fascinating." As much as a cloud could, it gave the impression of leaning forward.

"Cannot really say why he has returned, but he was headed up to the Street of the Hopeful Slave."

"Might be some action up that way," the mercenary demon suggested.

"Not for any demons, unless they want to duel." Talmon shifted its gaze about, seeing that the conversation was not going unnoticed, and not only demons were listening.

"That is true. You said the Gate Breaker had a sorceress?"

"A little girl, pretty as mortals see things, with red hair and golden eyes."

"A child? You must be mistaken."

Talmon shifted to a posture of polite indignation. "I think I know a child when I see it."

"My apologies," Jiiton offered. "How very interesting. Exalted?"

"Possibly. Had the power."

"Terrestrial?"

"Not that I could tell."

"Fascinating."

Talmon was pleased with the interest that Jiiton had taken. Certainly the tale would take on a life.

Then what might happen would unfold, with the Yozis and their Demon princes innocent of any wrong doing.


	16. The Red Head and the Raven

**The Red Head and the Raven**

* * *

Folded steel, bent in the middle, bounded together with matching metal, it created a clever suspension spring. Sparrow held it up, the object nearly a hundred pounds, and looked down its length. "How much for fifty of these?"

The shop owner looked surprised for a moment. "Five hundred silver," he told her.

"You'll take the equivalent in jade?"

"Of course."

Sparrow counted out the jade for the man. "I have rented a small store house near the gate." She handed him a piece of paper. "Have them sent there."

He nodded. "By the end of the day."

"Good." Sparrow paused. "Tell me, could you meet an order for five hundred of those springs?"

"Five hundred, surely," he paused, "I mean what would you even," he shook his head, "it would take…"

"I do not need them immediately," Sparrow reassured him, "but were I to purchase them could you have them ready in a month of getting the funds?"

He picked up an abacus from the table, slid the steel beads along the rails, looked thoughtful. "I think so," he finally said.

"Thank you, I will keep that in mind. Good day."

"Yes, thank you."

Sparrow left the shop. Kiyoshi was waiting outside.

"What exactly are you doing?" he asked her.

"Purchasing leaf springs. I have an idea to use them in ship construction. In general however I am purchasing a large number of things the shipyard's needs."

"Just get Ivory to make them all."

"That is a waste of her talents."

Kiyoshi shook his head. "I think I would have had more fun staying behind."

"And I think that you will find things are going to get more interesting soon."

Walking towards them was Red.

"She looks like she wants to talk," Kiyoshi said. "About something serious."

"Good. I've been waiting for this."

Red stopped a few steps from Sparrow, seemingly unconcerned with the people who had step around to avoid her. "I would like to speak with you, will you come with me?"

"Why?"

"There are people that my sister and I would like you to meet, and we have an enemy we would like you to help us with."

Sparrow made a bit of a show about thinking of it; as she had told Koyoshi, this was what she had been waiting for. "Very well."

Red look relieved, a smile appearing on her face for a moment. "Thank you."

She said little else as she led Sparrow and Kiyoshi through the city, out of Foretown and its crowded shops.

The house that Red brought them to was a white stone building, in an orderly line of about thirty similar structures. She opened the door. "Please," she said, indicating they might enter.

Sparrow found the interior of the house not stark as the exterior; that seemed to be the pattern for the orderly Whitewallers. The floors were covered in hardwood, polished to a warm glow, and bright tapestries hung on the wall.

Red slid her feet from her boots. "Blue is not back yet," she told Sparrow. "We should not have to wait long."

Sparrow removed her shoes, as did Kihoshi. Red led them deeper into the house.

There was at least one servant in the house, a middle-aged man who was laying out tea and pastries when they entered the sitting room. A large window looked out into a walled garden; thick carpets covered the floor, and there were several, overstuffed chairs and couches set around the low table on which the tea was being placed.

"Welcome home madam," the man said, lowering his head slightly.

"Thank you Morg, these are Blue's and my guests."

Morg turned watery brown eyes to sparrow and dipped his head. "Welcome."

Red gave Morg a few orders, some other refreshments she wanted brought in, then dismissed him.

Kiyoshi did not wait to be invited but took a seat and poured three cups of tea. Red did not pay it any attention and invited Sparrow to sit.

Sparrow picked up a cup and drank. It was a strong tea, with a smoky taste that went well with the small, flakey pastry served with it.

"Thank you for coming," Red said after she had sipped from her cup. "My sister and I have a proposition for you."

"I have fantasies that start that way," Kiyoshi said as he picked up a pastry and looked it over.

"That is not the proposition we are offering." She looked at Sparrow, as if she was going to say something, but then chose not to. "We have a target."

"What? Or who?"

"It is a what." She took a drink of her tea. "What do you know about Marma's Fell?"

"It is a Shadowland, beyond the city," Sparrow answered.

"Do you know its history?"

"Not really."

"Not at all," Kiyoshi said.

"It was once a prison camp, where the Shogunate imprisoned many of the engineered servants of the Solars. The place is full of such ghosts."

"Engineered?"

"Apparently the Solars of old created their own servants. I've seen some very strange ghosts in the Fell."

"And what about this one particular ghost that you want killed?"

Red smiled. "He is a creature called a kyzvoi, they seem to be a mix of different creatures. This one is called Thrice Dead Achiba, and he is dangerous."

"Powerful?"

"Cunning, smart as well. From what we have seen he is a skilled military leader. He has ambitions."

"Have you seen him?"

"No, not yet. We've fought his forces, but he has not yet engaged us."

"Is he choosing to avoid battle?"

Red shook her head. "I don't know."

"What is Thrice Dead Achiba doing?"

"Unifying the ghosts within the Fell under his banner. He is probably the first true leader the Fell has ever seen. Whitewall might normally ignore him, or even make a deal with him, but he sends his forces out of the Shadowland to attack the living."

"What happens if he is ended?"

"I am not sure. The army he gathered might break, or some other ghost might maintain the hold on them. And the Lover or the Bishop might take advantage of the power vacuum and move it. If he is not killed, he will continue to be a threat to the living."

Sparrow considered what she had been told. As a tactician she understood the situation well enough, she was already coming up with plans on how to break the army and draw Thrice Dead Achiba to her. What happened after that, she was not so certain. Diplomacy was Heron's strong point.

"I'll need to know who the most powerful ghosts are in his army, which ones are loyal to him, which ones are not." Sparrow reached for the tea pot and filled her cup.

"I can get you that information." Red's eyebrows had risen, as if surprised.

"That will be a good start…" Sparrow stopped, turning her head towards a sound.

"That would be Blue returning with the others."

"Who exactly at these others?" Sparrow asked.

"Dragon Bloods, our immediate team."

Sparrow's gaze found Kiyoshi. He nodded, a slight dip of his head. Sparrow trusted Red and Blue, mostly, but she was not going to let her guard down among Terrestrials she had never met. She got to her feet, Kiyoshi doing the same. Red, perhaps thinking it rude to continue sitting, also stood.

Blue came into the room, three other people with her.

Beside her was an older man, his grey, thick hair, sticking up around his head like a mane. He was dressed like a workman, solid clothing, heavy boots, tools on his belt; his sun and wind tanned skin spoke of someone who spent a lot of time outside. Only the daiklaive he wore across his back, and his eyes, like cut sapphires, suggested at his true heritage.

To Blue's other side was a woman, not quite as tall as Blue, with long black hair that hung to her knees; her pale skin, almost white. She was pretty, large green eyes in a pointed face. She wore a green kimono, a dagger tucked into her obi. Sparrow thought she looked a little like Heron.

Walking just behind them was a tall, board shouldered man. Lantern jawed, short, spiky brown hair, dark, brown eyes. Ruggedly handsome, he was the sort of man that Sparrow had been attracted to, before her meeting with Heron had skewed her tastes. He wore a reinforced breastplate of blue jade over rich robes of dark purple. In his left hand he carried a sheathed, gently curving sword.

"Welcome to our home," Blue said, smiling. "Red's treated you well, right?" She took a few steps forward, then paused, looked back over her shoulder. "I should introduce you."

"Please do," Sparrow said.

Blue held out a hand, indicating the old man. "This is Albicore Cynis."

Albicore raised a hand to his chest and lowered his head. Sparrow thought the motion, while perfect, held no real respect.

"And Calla of Whitewall, a lost egg." Blue was pointing to the woman.

"I am pleased to meet you Lady Sparrow," Calla said, bowing at her waist.

"And the big guy is Rappel, Gens Amilar of Lookshy."

"Don't hold that against me," Rappel said to her, smiling.

Sparrow resisted the urge to tell him that she had found Lookshy admirable.

"I am Sparrow," she told them, watching. "I know why Red and Blue are not an immediate threat, but you three I don't know. Before we go any further, I will need an explanation. I understand why Blue and Red accept that I am a chosen of the Sun, and not an Anathema, but I need to know about the rest of you."

"Is it okay if everyone sits?" Red asked.

Sparrow thought about it, then nodded.

They took seats, the servant returned with more tea and pastry. People poured drinks and sampled food.

"I'll start, age before beauty," Albicore said. He looked at Sparrow for a few seconds. "You're damn young."

"Should I come back in a few centuries?"

Albicore snorted, it might have been a laugh. "I graduated from the Heptagram, the Realm's school of sorcery."

"I have heard of it," Sparrow said.

He nodded. "I'm a sorcerer, geomancer, but mostly an engineer. I'm skilled at fixing things. Skilled at finding old, broken artifacts and making them work. It made my family a lot of money. There are things that we can't build anymore, so fixing them is, well, a valuable talent."

Sparrow did not know where he was going but she nodded to show she was paying attention.

"Not sure what you'd think, but I found it strange that there were so many things we couldn't build, even some things we couldn't repair. Does that seem right to you? It didn't seem right to me," he continued before Sparrow might voice an opinion. "Of course, that's not a thought you voice carelessly, but it got me thinking, looking into things that certain, religious types might not like someone looking into.

"You start with a thought like that, you begin looking at artifacts of orachalcium and moonsilver, and thinking that they are even more advanced than ones of Jade made at the same time. Once you start down that path, it's not too long before you start wondering about what you have always been told."

"Is that why you came here?" Sparrow asked him.

Albicore nodded. "One of the reasons. It was also far from family and other prying eyes." He took a drink of his tea. "Chosen of the Sun, I accept. One time rulers of Creation, probably, not now though. If you want to hit the Shadowlands and slap down Thrice Dead Achiba and buy this city some breathing room, I'll be with you, and you can trust me at your back."

"Thank you," Sparrow told him.

"I want an answer to my own question."

"Oh?"

"Why did you go after Mask of Winters?"

Sparrow did not answer immediately, thinking back on when they had learned of the Mask of Winters' plan. "Because I saw it needed to be done, and because Heron wanted me to."

"This Heron asks you to stand toe to toe with a Death Lord and you just say 'yes'?"

Kiyoshi laughed.

Everyone in the room looked towards him.

Unashamed Kiyoshi said, "If you meet Heron you'll know."

Sparrow looked back to Albicore. "Heron and I share a bond through the power we carry. That is the only way I have to explain it."

Albicore nodded. "I'll accept that for them moment. Bonds like that exist amongst the Dragon Bloods."

Sparrow looked at the other two new comers, her gaze settling on Calla.

"There is little to tell really," Calla said, dropping her gaze. "I came to my power in the uncivilized lands of the North where the teachings of the Immaculate Order have not reached. I came here and in the bones of this city learned that the chosen of the Sun were not the Anathema I would hear them called.

"I wish to protect the city and am willing to work with anyone who shares that goal."

"That is acceptable," she told the woman. The story rang true, but was a little too simple for Sparrow's tastes. Perhaps she would have to see what it was in the 'bones' of the city had convinced Calla.

Rappel smiled at Sparrow. "I am a thief. A good one. I stole quite a bit, and that's why I had to choose self exile from Lookshy." He paused, as if expecting Sparrow to comment. "I went after well protected items, because they were either very valuable or very dangerous, or both. So a little like Cynis-san I uncovered truths that were dangerous. Of course, I don't really care. I'm not a missionary or a seeker of truth, I just want to be rich, and right now Whitewall is a good place to get rich.

"Blue sprung me from jail, so I owe her one. I'll join in this fight, and I can work with you like I can work with anyone. And maybe in the fighting some of our enemies might drop some valuables. Simple as that."

"Why did Blue have to get out you of jail?"

He laughed, more a snort, and his lips twisted into a sneer. "Sometimes my reach exceeds my grasp and my fingers get caught where they should not be. My services are valuable to the city so they simply put me in jail until someone needs my help. Then I get a pardon."

"Until you get caught again."

"Eventually I won't be."

"Very well." Sparrow stood. "Red, get me that information I asked for. When you do we will meet again and I will tell you my plan."

"Wait, you're just going? Don't you need to know our numbers? The lay of the land? What we have already tried."

"I will, but until Red gets me the intelligence I need, it does not matter."

"You seem pretty certain of yourself," Albicore told her.

"I stood on the undermanned line of the Marukan Alliance and turned the Mask of Winters' forces back. I am pretty confident."

Kiyoshi had got up, waved with his artificial hand and followed Sparrow from the room and then out of the house.

"What do you think?" she asked Kiyoshi when they had left.

"Cynis is interested in my arm, and Calla is, well, not lying, but not being entirely truthful."

"Something I thought as well. I would like to talk to her again, perhaps in private."

Kiyoshi nodded. "I'll look into that for you."

"Thank you."

* * *

"Tea parties on the ceiling?" Darken Gray asked.

"I am afraid so, embarrassing business all around," Uberous answered.

Uberous was the goddess of nursing, a round, pleasant looking woman with extremely large breasts. As she was one of those gods whose area of influence got along fine without her she had found work within the bureaucracy of heaven.

"You'd think that she would know better. A little magic in a child's life is one thing, but too much can leave them jaded." Darken Gray shook her head. "I suppose I cannot blame Sherry too much, she was spoiled by Lady Aisha."

"I have tried to give her a nudge in the right direction, but really, such things are not my forte. I think all I do is make her hungry."

Darken Gray smiled. "Well, I think a message from me will have a different effect."

Uberous smiled. "I do recall that little Sherry ended up over your knee a few times."

"Yes, a few times."

"And what about your newest charge? I am terribly interested in hearing about her."

Darken Gray had placed a piece of stationary on the desk in front of her. "She is like most Dynasts, spoiled, but not as bad as some. And she has a mother complex that I would like to curb, except for the fact it gives me the best lever to influence her behaviour."

"Oh dear."

"But she is also a chosen of the sun, brilliant, certain to grow up to be a lady both wonderful and terrible."

"So something of a challenge?"

Darken Gray had picked up a brush and was starting to compose her letter. "Yes, but a pleasant one. I enjoy watching them grow up."

"So why aren't you with her now?"

"She's gone to Malfeas."

"Pardon?" Uberous stood up, her generous breasts bouncing with the motion.

Darken Gray looked up from her desk. "It was not as if I could stop her."

"Of course you could. You say 'No!', or you put her over you knee and spank her until she promises to be good!" Uberous mimed the action of swatting a bottom; the action made her breasts bounce and sway.

"She is a Twilight. Twilights deal with demons and Malfeas. I can't punish her for that."

"And does Lady Aisha Hikari Ex know about this?"

Darken Gray turned her attention again to the letter. "I sent a message to her. The choice of messenger might result in it arriving late. Say after the message I will send saying that Ivory has returned safely from Malfeas."

Darken Gray could not see the other god but assumed that she might be wearing something of an incredulous look on her face. "You do realize that you are using something of a dangerous strategy?"

"I am aware."

Uberous took a seat. "She will return safely won't she?"

Looking up from the page Darken Gray said, "She came back safely from facing a Death Lord. And Heron Jade Eyes is with her. I trust him to return her unharmed."

"Why?"

She smiled. "Because he is very skilled at accomplishing what he wants."

"Might it be," Uberous said, "that you are smitten with him?"

"Smitten?"

"In love."

"I know what the word means."

"Well?"

"I respect him."

"That I find to be somewhat harder to believe than you being in love."

"Hold comment until you meet him."

"And when…"

A bell sounded.

"Excuse me," Darken Gray said as she stood. "Enter."

The door to the office opened and a large, black raven flew in. It alighted on the back of an unoccupied chair and dipped its head. "Darken Gray," it said.

"Bak, what do I owe this visit to?"

The raven turned its head to look towards Uberous. "What about big tits there?"

Uberous laughed, an odd little twitter coming from a woman her size and appearance. Then she lazily lifted her hand and slapped the raven from the chair. Bak fell to the floor, a tangle of wings and feathers. "I meant the honourable Uberous," he said from where he lay on his back.

"Feel free to speak in front of her," Darken Gray said as she sat once more.

Bak flapped back to the chair, took a moment to preen, then said, "That Wyld Hunt you are interested in, they've stopped heading north and turned up the Yanaze River. They traded boats in Lookshy and maybe picked up some soldiers to go with them."

"Any idea why?" She took a handful of fine sand from a small ceramic pot and then sprinkled it across the still wet ink on the page

"Nope. The Battle Crow and the Falcon were getting all excited about things and they've suddenly lost interest in the hunt. Doubt they are heading up North anymore."

"Is there any news that might have claimed the Wyld Hunt's interest in the area?"

Bak turned his head, his one eye settled on her. "Nothing new,"

"Deled was supposed to be heading north, fast, coming in unprepared."

"That's not what he's doing now."

"Something has changed." She neatly folded the paper in front of her. "I need you to tell Hu Kage what you told me."

"Hu Kage? How I'm supposed to find him?"

"Look under beds and in closets and dark corners until something terrifying leaps out at you. Then tell it you need to speak with Hu Kage."

"Thanks a lot. You're a real piece of work."

"Are you still here?"

With a loud cry and the sound of wings Bak left the room.

"Is it good that the Wyld Hunt has lost interest in the Solars or bad?" Uberous asked.

"That is what I need to find out." She held out the letter. "Please pass this on to Sherry."

"Of course," Uberous said as she took it.

"Please excuse me," Darken Gray said as she got to her feet. "I have to send some messages and call in a favour or two."

* * *

**Game Notes**

The North has two gods of war. Voharun the Battle Crow (god of fallen soldiers) and Nasamara the Falcon of Glory. Likely a battle between Exalted in their domain would have been interesting to both and they would have been watching how things unfolded with great interest and been disapointed when it became apparent the fight was not going to happen.


	17. Moving Armies

**Moving Armies**

* * *

Sparrow looked over the maps and reports that Red and Blue had sent her. She had spread them out over a table, looking at each one, pushing them about the surface into different configurations.

"What are you going to do?" Dreaming Blue asked her.

Sparrow looked up at the Sidereal, then sat back to the maps, crossing her arms in front of her. "Heron was certain the Wyld Hunt would be coming straight to the Ice Tree. That they are making a side trip means I have less reason to be concerned that I left the Ice Tree poorly defended."

"Assuming the Wyld Hunt does not learn the Ice Tree is undefended."

Sparrow smiled. "If they learn that then there is less reason that Deled would go to the Ice Tree if he seeks to destroy us."

"A valid point."

The door opened and Kihoshi leaned into the room. "The messenger is getting antsy."

"He can wait."

"I told him that too, it seems to bother him. I suppose he is not sure if the Syndics can wait."

"They can wait too. So tell me," she looked at Dreaming Blue, "how will this play out advisor?"

Dreaming Blue reached into her kimono and took out the orrery that Ivory had given her. She opened it and the star field expanded out from it. Sparrow waited, looking through the papers, while the Sidereal studied the stars.

Finally the stars collapsed back into orrery and Dreaming Blue closed it with a snap. "I will spare you the explanation of the stars. At the moment two Death Lords are making plans for the Fell. Thrice Dead could give either of them the shadowland if he chose, or he could stand against them and slow their acquisition, perhaps for years."

Dreaming Blue ran her thumb over the casing of the orrery. "Your plan can work, it may very well put the Death Lords at each other's throats, likely to the benefit of Whitewall."

"Good." Sparrow got to her feet. "Time to meet the Syndics."

* * *

Within the temple-palace of the Syndics was an audience hall, capable of holding hundreds, but at the moment almost empty. Sparrow looked at the three identical figures, creatures with glass skin over silver bones; the Syndics.

All three were watching her. For almost a minute, since the room had been emptied and the doors closed, they had regarded each other in silence. As well as Sparrow and the Syndics, Kiyoshi, Dreaming Blue, and Rune the Eclipse, there was one other being in the hall, a demon harpist who resided in a corner of the room. The music was beautiful, heart wrenching; it made Sparrow think on what she was attempting and what it would mean for her.

Rune coughed politely.

"Thank you for accepting our invitation," the Syndic in the centre said.

"I am honoured by the invitation," Sparrow replied, but she remained standing straight, making no movement of deference.

"We understand you are working with some of our defenders," the Syndic on the right said.

"I am. I plan to enter the Shadowland Marama's Fell and end the threat that is Thrice-Dead Achiba. And before you ask if I can do it, this is not the first war I have fought with the dead."

"Indeed." That from the one on the left. "Would you tell us your plan?"

"The quick version is that I will destroy those ghosts who are strong and loyal to Achiba, leave those that chafe at his control, and then end Achiba. His empire will fall to pieces and the Death Lords will have no single power centre to court in their attempt to take control of that Shadowland. I suspect for a few years at the very least the ghosts will be too busy fighting with each other to bother you."

Rune made a noise that might have been rude, it might have just been a cough. Sparrow ignored, her attention on the Syndics.

"I will not ask if you can do this; as you said, you have already fought a similar battle successfully, against a greater enemy. Even if your plan fails, I do not see any serious repercussions for this city. Our treaties are such that they are not with the individual ghosts. My question is just what do you plan to achieve by doing this?"

Sparrow supposed Rune had already told them, but they wanted to hear it from her.

"There is value in making allies in the North, but I am truly here to lead some of your more powerful residents away and into my service. I end a threat to your city and impress potential followers."

"Why?" That was the one on the right.

She looked towards that one, and said, "I have need for Exalted servants, those who have awakened essence. I need skilled pilots, engineers and soldiers to obtain my goal."

"And that goal is?" the one on the left asked.

"Building a great sky fleet," she told him, which was true enough, but not the whole story.

The Syndics were silent for several seconds. In that time Rune spoke up. "I do not think she means any harm to Whitewall, but harm may come if we allow her to do as she pleases."

As Rune spoke the Syndics, as one, turned their heads to look at him. "Noted," the one on the right said.

They returned their attention to Sparrow and the one of the left said to her, "We will not stop you from making this attempt at the ghost, nor your attempt to recruit followers."

"We might also be interested in purchasing some airships in the future," the centre one said.

Sparrow nodded.

The one of the left continued. "We ask that you keep the city's safety foremost of mind in your actions. Whitewall cannot be allowed to be harmed."

"I will do that, and I understand."

"We thank you for your time," the three said in unison, "and will not keep you any longer."

"Thank you," Sparrow said. Obvious that the three had nothing else to say she left the audience hall.

Dreaming Blue and Kiyoshi followed her from the hall.

Outside of the Temple she found Blue waiting.

"Gather up your commanders and find a place for them to meet with me," she told the Terrestrial. "I am going to brief them on my plan. I wish to leave as soon as possible."

"Really?" Blue asked, eyes wide. "We are really going to do this? You'll lead us?"

Sparrow nodded.

Blue punched her fist into open hand. "Excellent. I'll have them meet at my place. Go on ahead," she said as she turned to run off, "if Red is not there the maid will show you to the war room."

"War room?" Sparrow called out after her.

Blue laughed a she looked over her shoulder. "Otherwise known as the ballroom."

"She seems very excited," Kiyoshi said as Blue ran off.

"Her and her sister have been waiting for the right Solar for some time," Dreaming Blue told him.

"Then I had better not let them down," Sparrow said.

* * *

The riverboat, driven by demons, had navigated the waterways swiftly. Anzar recognized some landmarks, and could see orchards and vineyards. He was certain they were near Vinleau.

Then, to his surprise, the boat slowed and turned towards the banks. It took a few minutes for the captain to find an area where the waters were deep enough to allow a landing. In that time many of the soldiers gathered near the bow and wooden planks were made ready. When they were as close to the bank as the captain could get the river boat, those planks were laid out so that soldiers and monks could disembark. They left the boat, jumping into the muddy ground at the river's edge.

A monk named Nobscible Ledall led them, directing the soldiers to set up a camp far from the river, on a level area covered in wild brush.

"They are taking their time," Lieutenant Whitebridge said.

The Lieutenant was an older man, in charge of the Lookshy soldiers tasked with providing protection. He and Anzar had often talked during the trip up river.

Anzar looked up at the nearby orchard. "Time for the workers up there to pass the news on."

Whitebridge nodded. "I see. So we are not going to arrive unannounced."

"Surprised people sometimes do stupid things."

"You're not going to be welcome there."

"I am aware," Anzar said, uncontrolled anger creeping into his tone.

"It is a variable."

Anzar let the anger flow away. "Yes."

Whitebridge did not say anything else, and Anzar was pleased enough with that.

Eventually the river boat was moving away from the bank, towards the middle of the river. The soldiers left behind had begun to set up a camp.

The boat did not travel with its unnatural, demon driven speed, but continued at a more sedate paste, as if it was once more driven by oxen. It was more than enough time for anyone in the orchards to return to the village and pass on the news, and time enough for the village to prepare.

That was evident by the small but obviously official greeting party that waited by the docks.

Anzar recognized the abbot from the monastery, the headman and one of Vinleau's exorcists.

"I recognize Abbot Falstaff, and the older man must be Liam Tall, the headman," Whitebridge said. "Who is the other man?"

"Gallen Stonewalk, exorcist."

"So the most important people."

Anzar nodded.

The riverboat came to a stop near the docks, and ropes were tossed to workers. The gangway was lowered to the dock, scraping across the woods as the craft was drawn closer.

It was not Deled who walked down that plank, but one of his monks, a woman named Shaien Teppet. Anzar knew she was air aspected, and thought her very pretty; her shaved head only drawing attention to a graceful neck and large, brown eyes.

She stopped in front of the three village officials and bowed politely. "I am Teppet Shaien, of the Wyld Hunt under command of Peleps Deled."

Liam was the one who spoke, his voice almost even, as he said, "Vinleau welcomes you."

Anzar looked around, spotted more familiar faces, including the blacksmith's apprentice. Open hate was on that face and Anzar once more felt his anger raising.

"Might I ask about the soldiers who are setting up camp not far from here?" Abbot Falstaff asked.

Anzar looked back to the conversation on the docks as Shaien said, "They are soldiers who are to fight those whose existence is a blasphemy to the Dragons. They will have no need to come into Vinleau." Unsaid but understood was that they would come in if anathema or those that served them were discovered in Vinleau.

"Of course, but they are of welcome to come, in controlled numbers, for their enjoyment," Liam told her.

Controlled numbers to spend their coin, Anzar heard in the headman's words. He looked about again, saw the boy was gone.

"Tell me Abbot," Deled called out from almost on Anzar's elbow, "do you worship and pray to a god here?"

The question and its asker seemed to take many by surprise, and Anzar himself was shocked that Deled had once more approached so close without him realizing.

Abbot Falstaff bowed deeply to Deled. "We produce ales, wines and more spiritous drinks at our monastery. Such actions are prayers and worship to Lady Brightfeathers whether we would wish them to be or not."

It was a very political answer.

For several seconds Deled and Falstaff held each other gazes, and it was Falstaff who broke that first with a polite dip of his head.

"Monk Teppet will arrange for supplies and boarding for our people here. Lieutenant Whitebridge, take your soldiers ashore so that you might be present to provide the," he paused for a moment, "protection that Lookshy desires."

"Yes sir."

"Anzar, you will find out if there are any threats in the area that we need to put down."

"Yes Deled-sama." He looked towards the people on the shore, saw the distrust directed at him. His teeth bit down hard in suppressed anger.

"I will remain aboard the river boat. We will use it to move along the river if required." Deled turned and walked back towards the bow.

Orders given everyone began to work.

Anzar took a deep breath and then walked down the plank to join Shaien in discussions with Vinleau's leaders.

* * *

Ogris was a ghost, one of the followers of Thrice Dead Achiba, a commander of a small, but powerful force. He did not have many ghosts that followed him, but he commanded an ancient war machine. With the machine to lead the way his small force of ghosts fought at a level of units three or four times his number.

The unit was patrolling the border of the Shadowland when Sparrow fell upon it.

She left the others behind her, telling them to move in when she gave them the signal.

The ghosts did not seem to understand why she was walking towards them. She recognized Ogris from descriptions, and saw him directing the man shaped war machine towards her.

A ghost approached her, thrusting a spear towards her. Her daiklaive cut the spear in half with one strike, the reverse strike took the ghosts head off as golden essence danced along the blade.

Her intent obvious, the ghosts charged her. Sparrow sprinted forward, blade cutting through all that came against her.

Then she stood before the machine, it towered above her, almost twice her height, and it was fast. She side stepped a hammer blow, cut a deep gash in the steel leg, spun around behind it and stabbed the blade into Ogris' chest.

The machine turned, the hammer crashing down on Sparrow. Her caste mark lit up on her forehead as golden waves rippled across her body. Unharmed by the attack she countered, taking one of the machine's arms off before striking Ogris again.

Around her she heard the sound of battle, her forces having moved in to engage.

Three more sword strikes: One finished off Ogris, the other two disabled the machine.

The battle did not take long after that; the ghosts, without Ogris and his machine, were easily defeated.

Sparrow stepped up on the ruined war machine to survey the field.

The soldiers looked up at her, at the machine she stood upon.

"Any losses?" she asked Kiyoshi.

Kiyoshi looked about, then shook his head. "Not this time."

She jumped down from the machine. Albicore Cynis stood nearby, leaning on his reaver daiklaive, looking at the ruined construct.

"Do you think you can fix it?" Sparrow asked him.

He looked up at her, for a moment a scowl crossing his face before his expression returned to a neutral one. "No," he told her. "You did too much damage, and I would not even know where to start with such an advanced design."

"I could introduce you to someone who could make it whole."

"Another Solar?" His words were possibly harder than he intended.

Sparrow nodded. "She could likely teach you things about such devices, assuming you were ready for it."

"Ready?" Open curiosity in his face.

"Ready to find out that all your work and study can't match the raw talents of a Solar. Ready to put aside any resentment."

He openly scowled then turned and walked away.

"You enjoy baiting him?" Kiyoshi asked her.

She shook her head. "I need to know the true character of these people. I'll push them. Red!" she called out, "let's get everyone on the move, we have a lot more targets."


	18. The Mean Streets of Malfeas

**The Mean Streets of Malfeas**

* * *

Demons surrounded him. Hundred of demons, perhaps thousands of demons, packed closely into the streets, shopping, gossiping, fighting, singing, fucking, working, living in the demon city.

Heron usually had an area of space around him, a zone created by politeness and fear. Today the vast press of demons had shrunk that zone slightly. Close by were several priests of Cecelyne, watching, waiting to pounce upon anyone who might breach the immunity Heron enjoyed, or break any other law of Malfeas.

The stalls packed on either side of the street sold everything, but musical instruments were predominant in the immediate area around him. Many patrons were testing out the wares, filling the air with a cacophony of disharmonious noise, but Heron did not mind too much. Better disharmonious noise than silence in Malfeas.

Somewhere up ahead Ivory ran, he could just pick her out by the flash of her parasol every now and then. He did not worry about her; between the diplomatic immunity she enjoyed as his companion, and her own abilities, she was likely safe enough.

He paused near a stall that sold weapons. A flame wand styled weapon had caught his attention. He reached out and picked up the weapon made of brass and a silvery wood.

"An excellent choice sir," the demon, a hulking brute of a creature, told him. "Finest of its kind."

Heron held it up, opened the breach, looked at the ignition chamber. "It's good," he said, lifting it and sighting along the barrel.

"For you honoured guest, I can make a deal."

Heron put the weapon down. "Perhaps some other time."

The merchant called after him, but Heron ignored the sales pitch; his interest had been purely academic.

His thoughts were more focused on what he had learned over the days in Malfeas; which was little of true value. All the time spent in various glass libraries, learning about the time of the Primordials, and he and Ivory had learned nothing more than the Primordials had created the Games of Divinity and the gods had been jealous of them.

The history written by the losers of the war.

No where had they found an explanation of how the Games had been built, and nothing that might give them a hint of how to temporarily sour the Games.

Heron had worried that might be the case. It meant he was going to have to try something different.

With such thoughts in his mind, and his attention on the demons directly around them, the change in the sounds behind him did not have an immediate impact. When he recognized the screams for what they were, and not the sound of exotic instruments he looked over his shoulder.

There was something large back there, moving fast, and he grew aware of the tremors running through the street beneath his feet.

"Damn," Heron said softly. He pushed a demon out of his way, jumped up onto one of the tables of a merchant's stall. The merchant was already clearing the table, as on the streets panic began to seize the pedestrians. Behind them was an engine of destruction, one of the most powerful and unstoppable forces within the city. "Damn," Heron said again before he jumped up from the table and pulled himself up, onto the balcony of the building.

Isidoros, the Black Boar That Twists the Skies.

Heron had heard of the Yozi, but had never seen it until that moment.

Nothing resisted the Black Boar's charge. When it walked the demon city it destroyed everything in its path, even if it did not want to.

Behind him Heron could see buildings fall as Isidoros' passage crushed entire blocks.

Heron was running across the balconies, leaping the gaps, moving as fast as he could.

There were other demons, all trying to flee the coming destruction, the force of nature that would not be reasoned with. They got in Isidoros' way but they slowed him not at all.

Heron felt the building shake as he leapt from it, heard it collapse as he landed on the thin, brass railing of another. The road beneath him was too congested and he could not see Ivory.

He was going to have to trust that she would take care of herself, and at the next street junction he dropped down onto a cross street and ran perpendicular to the Yozi's path, hoping it would not follow.

Around him buildings broke and fell from the tremors of the Yozi's distant passing, and the street buckled and cracked beneath his feet. It was not following him, but the swath of destruction spread wide out from its path. A chunk of road canted up and twisted and Heron slid down the incline, waiting for the last moment to leap across to another section of road, avoiding being dumped into the under-passages of the shell.

With holes opening at his heels Heron fled, until the tremors subsided and the noise grew faint. He stopped and looked back the way he had come.

Destruction; as if someone had taken a giant sword and slashed it through the city.

"A mess isn't it," someone said.

Heron looked over at a demon who stood close by, one of the laminata, a dear shaped mass of writhing white tendrils with baleful, brown eyes.

"Very,"

"Probably directed at you Gate Breaker," it told him, sounding gleeful.

"Possibly," Heron agreed.

The thing giggled, Heron assumed it was a giggle. "Wouldn't want to be you."

"If you actually had the choice I suspect that you would," Heron told it as he turned his back on the laminata.

An angry snort sounded from it, but he heard it walking away.

The Yozis were playing a game, and Isidoros was just the opening move. Which meant that something else was coming. He looked towards the way he had come. Let them think he was concerned with Ivory.

Nothing would come from the area of destruction, at least not immediately. Which meant it was behind him, or to either side. Probably all directions, eventually. Smart move would be to spread the forces along the route since they could not be sure where he would have turned off the main road.

It was the stupid move as well, because it would spread their forces out thin. And the forces would be limited because no demons could come at him.

He saw a flash of green light off metal to his left, he turned and moved that way, a serpentine running pattern. An arrow broke against the ground, close to where Heron had been standing. Several other arrows came from one of the far buildings, none of them coming closer that an arm's length.

He kicked open a cracked door, entered a hallway. Ahead of him were stairs, twisted from the tremors of Isidoros' passage When he reached the stairs several arrows streaked down the stairwell, one coming close enough that he felt the fletching brush his arm.

His plasma tongue repeaters were in his hands; he fired up the stair well, the flames exploding in the area the arrows came from.

He ran up the broken stairs, keeping close to the wall, away from the open area of the stair well.

Five flights up the stairs ended. Heron found one archer, dead, badly burnt. He was not a demon, as Heron had suspected. He had certainly not been alone, not with that many arrows..

He grabbed up the still hot body, holding it in front of him, used it to push one of the doors open. He shifted to the side a moment before several arrows hit the corpse. As the body fell to the floor he ran into the hall, firing rapidly, dropping several archers before ducking into a room to reload.

Not a bad ambush, he thought, turning towards a set of windows. But they did not have enough people to pin him down.

Two heavily armed figures came crashing through the window, right into blasts of his weapons. Both went out, burning.

Their patterns were easy to read too.

* * *

"What was that?" Ivory asked, looking back at the destruction she had managed to escape. While the air had been thick with dust, she and her clothing were perfectly clean, her hair neat, thanks to the magical hairband she wore.

"Isidoros," the teodozjia said.

The teodozjia looked like a great lion made out of jade. Ivory had leapt upon its back when she had seen it fleeing the destruction. She supposed she had gotten used to the idea of trusting great cats to help her out.

"Isidoros?" Ivory asked.

"The Black Boar," the lion said, looking towards her, "that Twists the Skies. It is said that before the traitors' time he would push the sun and the moon and the stars off their paths in the sky."

"Why?" Ivory asked.

"I think he was a jerk really."

"Oh."

The lion stepped closer to her. "You owe me for saving your life."

Ivory looked up at it. "Your back was not very comfortable, I think you were trying to hurt me."

It growled.

Ivory took a step closer to it. "My bottom hurts, who is going to make up for that?" She leaned close towards its head and jaws, starting in the eye.

The lion snarled and then turned away from her.

"Wait!"

"What?" He looked back.

"What's your name?"

"All teodozjia are one, what one knows all know. Names do not matter."

"But if I needed to summon one and wanted you, what name would I use?"

The Lion was quiet for several seconds and then said, "You might call for Wogon if you want," it turned away from her, "I did not mean to save you after all."

Ivory watched it leave, then looked back towards the destruction.

How was she going to find Heron?

Nearby there was a guttural barking sound. She was in a large square, the pavement cracked and broken, some of the buildings around it damaged. The noise came from her left, from between two buildings.

When she saw what it was that was making the noise it took Ivory a moment to make sense of it. A tall man, in jade armour, holding the leads of people, or maybe what had once been people.

The men and women on the end of the leashes had faces lacking in humanity, they barked like hounds. She wondered what could do that to people and then decided that she did not want to know.

"Get her," the master said, releasing the broken people from their leads.

They leapt forward, like something out of a nightmare. As Ivory brought her hands together, a cats cradle of golden essence forming between her hands, she tried her best not to think too much on the scene. What she was going to do had to be a kindness.

From her hands came a spray of razor winged, obsidian butterflies.

They slashed through the once people, cutting deeply, killing most of them right out, leaving others to bleed out, too cut up to even crawl towards her. Their master did not escape unscathed, though his armour had kept him from taking a fatal wound.

The master looked at his dead 'hounds'. He screamed and charged towards Ivory, drawing the sword from the sheath across his back.

Ivory waited for him, her parasol held in front of her.

A moment before he struck she opened the parasol and literally danced aside with a series of light steps. It was called the 'demure carp feint', part of the martial arts style that she was learning. The spinning of her parasol and her movements distracted her opponent, causing the blade to miss. Ivory turned, shifting her stances as if she were waltzing, and came up on his side.

The blade slipped free from the handle of the parasol. Two quick slashes across the back of his legs left him sprawling, face first, on the cracked ground. She did not pause, did not think, but stepped forward and drove the point of her blade into the back of his neck.

Ivory stepped away from the body, looking about. A few of the 'hounds' not yet dead cried out in pain, and there was the distant sound of far off destruction. Isidoros she supposed.

A tall, thin woman, with features that were almost, but not quite human, walked from between another set of buildings. "Looks like it is my lucky day," she said.

She wore a tattered buff jacket, and dragged a grim scythe of brass behind her, the metal scraped and bumped across the broken ground.

Ivory flicked her sword to clean the blood from it and watched the woman walk towards her. Her tongue slipped between the thin lips of her too large mouth and she licked them slowly, as she lifted her scythe.

"Do you really think so?" Ivory asked.

When she moved, she moved fast, back foot pushing her forward in a long, leaping motion.

Ivory held her ground, lifting both sword and parasol, waiting until her enemy had committed herself. With a quick step back she fended off the scythe's strike with her sword. It made her arm feel numb, the force behind it, but the brass blade slid off to the side to cut into the stone ground. She lifted the parasol so it was pointed at the woman and triggered the charge.

Flame in the shape of a tiger erupted from the parasol's spike, washing over and savaging the woman. She screamed, but not for long. Ivory stepped back from the burning corpse and looked about.

"Anyone else," she asked with more bravado than she felt.

No one else stepped out.

"I thought as much." She sheathed her sword in the Parasol's shaft and walked away from the destruction, thinking she would find some demons who might direct her back towards the Street of the Hopeful Slave.

The ground under her feet heaved, and there was a series of loud pops all around her.

Then she was falling as the square collapsed into the tunnels beneath the roads.

The fall was not far, and the tunnel below were full of fast flowing obsidian powder. The powder cushioned her fall somewhat, but she sank deep into it. Floundering as she tried to kick out of the flow she was hardly able to move against the current.

"Little mouse, drowning in the dust," someone called. "Swim, swim, swim little mouse."

She kicked hard, looking over her shoulder towards the voice. In the green sunlight coming through the hole above she saw a man standing upon a bridge of brass that crossed the flowing obsidian. The bridge was some distance from where she had landed, but the weight of the powder was moving her towards it.

"Stab, stab, stab little mouse," the speaker, a man, called out, taking a spear and driving it down into the powder.

Kicking harder, trying to get away, Ivory wondered if she could stop herself at the brass bridge and manage to defend herself against the man on the bridge. Then she began to move forward, but it felt as if she as being pulled along by her cloak, as if it had been caught by some cross current. She moved closer towards the side of the tunnel.

"A filthy and dirty little mouse." The speaker was moving. "In the dirt and the dust where you should be, disgusting little mouse."

Ivory reached a ledge at the side of the tunnel and was pulling herself out when she heard footsteps close. "Soon you'll be streaked in blood dirty mouse."

She looked up. The man, dressed white clothing and polished armour, his hair neatly combed back stood a few paces from her. He carried his spear over his shoulder.

Ivory shook her head as she got to her knees, the dust falling away from her, leaving her clean and tidy. "You have some problems," she said.

The man looked shocked. "You're not a filthy little mouse."

"No," Ivory said as she stood, picking her up her parasol, which had gotten tangled in cloak and had been pulled along with her.

"What's the fun in that little mouse?" He snapped his spear from his shoulder and drove the point at her.

Ivory opened her parasol, the silk steel and adamant ribs turning the spear head. She closed it, slid it up the length of the spear, rapped him hard across the knuckles. He stepped back quickly, trying to get farther away from her, perhaps to better use his spear.

As some point in the opening moves Ivory's cloak had gotten wrapped around one of the man's legs. He stumbled and Ivory shifted her stance so she could give the cloak hard pull.

The man , already stepping back, unbalanced when his leg went out from under him, fell over into the obsidian dust, losing his spear in the fall.

Ivory gave the cloak another pull, freeing it from his leg, then knelt down and snapped his spear up. She spun it in her hands, the shaft slipping between her palms, and holding it solidly, drove it at him. The metal spear head caught him in above the collar, where the armour did not cover, cut across his throat and then deeply into his shoulder.

He let out a soft cry, blood flecking his mouth. The cry was cut short as his head sunk beneath the dust. "Choke, choke choke little mouse," Ivory said, keeping her hold on the spear, leaning on it, holding him down. For a few seconds she could feel him struggling on the other end of the spear. Soon the motions got weaker and then stopped.

Stepping back, she tossed the spear in after him, then grabbed her parasol and set off along the ledge.

It was not long after that she heard the sound of approaching voices. There was a small alcove just ahead of her and she ducked into it and pulled her cloak around herself.

"…killed someone I'm not going to be happy."

"He's always messing with those explosives, He's bound to blow himself one of these day, damn neat freak."

"As long as he's not blown up one of the targets. Not much sport in that."

"Might not be worth much either."

The two speakers passed where Ivory sheltered. One of them, a woman, looked right where Ivory hid, but did not react or raise an alarm. Ivory assumed she had gone unnoticed.

"We're making a big mess just to kill a few visitors."

They passed out of Ivory's field of view.

"Apparently that Gate Breaker is someone important, but the demons can't touch him."

"Any idea why?"

"No, heard that it…."

Ivory leaned out of the alcove, looking towards the two who had passed her. They did not seem interested in what was going on behind them. She looked the other way to make sure there were not any other threats. She stepped from the alcove and continued the way she had been going. Not far along she found a cross corridor and turned down it.

None of her attackers had been demons, but it must have been demons that had put them on her and Heron; though she was a little uncertain how they could have done that without breaking the terms of Heron's immunity.

There had to be a huge number of the attackers. That was the only way that Ivory thought such an attack could work. They would have been spread out along the possible paths of escape, ready to send up some sort of signal when they found a target.

Which meant there were probably more coming to this area.

She picked up her pace.

She hoped to find Heron because she did not think seeking out demon aid was the best choice at the moment.

* * *

The axeman fell backwards, most of his chest burnt away by the plasma blast from Heron's weapons. Heron leapt up, foot catching the dead man's shoulder, giving him a spring board that allowed him to leap above the stone wall.

On the other side of the wall were several people, in various armour, with various weapons. Their attention was on a gate that Heron assumed they expected he might exit from. At the top of his jump, a moment before he began to drop, his weapons were out in front of him, sweeping the would be ambushers in flame and plasma.

The soles of his boots smoked as he touched down on the burnt ground amongst the corpses. He reloaded his pistols and was ready when he came around a corner into a small plaza. On his forehead his caste mark blazed.

A small man turned towards Heron, "He's…"

Heron shot him in the face before he could say any more.

There were several other people in the plaza. Heron fired on several, killing most as he walked forwards. One of them, a man encased in super heavy, red jade plate armour, shook off the blast and charged Heron.

Heron's moves were smooth, he continued to fire at targets other than the man in the red jade, finishing them off, neatly stepping to the side to avoid attacks when necessary.

When it was only him and the man in the red jade Heron put aside his pistols and pulled forth his beamklaive.

The blade of essence met the red jade of the gore maul with a sound like the popping of fireworks. His opponent was nearly a head taller, and certainly a strong man to wear the armour he did, but Heron did not let his blade be pushed back.

"You will die here Anathema," the man grunted.

"Do you think so?" Heron asked. "The body count is already quite high in my favour." The blade of essence shifted, the bigger man stumbled, Heron kicked him low across the ankle. As the man tottered forward Heron moved so he was behind him. He kicked him hard in the back the knee, turning a slight imbalance into a fall.

"It seems," he lifted a foot and drove it into the man's back, sending him hard to the ground, "most of your people are probably realizing that the promises they were told amount to nothing," foot raised, he drove it down at the man's head, "just demons' smiles and vague statements."

The man managed to turn his head, and Heron's kick only knocked the helm from his head.

The man propelled himself forward, rolled loudly across the ground, came up on his feet, facing Heron.

He was a young looking man, but Heron supposed the Terrestrial might be anywhere between thirty and fifty. Strong, square jaw, eyes a light blue that looked almost washed out, long blonde hair, and mouth set in what looked like a permanent sneer. "What do you know?"

Heron moved forward. "I know the prisoners are bored."

The terrestrial came forward, swinging the gore maul in wide, fast, controlled swings. Heron ducked inside a swing, raised a hand to knock the back swing high and then slashed the man across the forehead.

The wound did not bleed much, for the essence blade had cauterized the wound, but it must have hurt for the terrestrial howled and leapt back.

Heron followed, driving his blade into a section of the armour where the plates slid over each other, the articulation point over the man's abdomen. The blade pierced, sunk deeply into the flesh. Heron continued forward, driving his shoulder into the man, twisting his hips, and with the hilt as a fulcrum point, threw the man down onto his back.

Foot placed on the Terrestrial's chest, his essence blade tracing small circles in the air above his eyes, Heron said, "The prisoners want entertainment, and we are it."

The terrestrial coughed blood. "No!"

"Fool." Heron took his foot from the man's chest and stepped away from him. "Crawl away and heal."

Heron heard the man trying to stand, the sound of armour scraping against stone, grunts of pain. It was all quite loud in relative quiet.

Heron paused.

"Come back here," the man called, then coughed painfully.

Heron turned. "Shut up," he said, no real anger in his tone, he was looking around, he was listening.

"Don't…."

"Shut up," Heron said, this time there was anger in his tone, and it seemed to hit the man like a blow for he went silent.

Heron waited a few seconds, then laughed bitterly. "Quiet in the demon city, you know what that means."

"No," the Terrestrial said after a moment, his voice trembling, Heron thought likely with both fear and pain.

Heron laughed again. "The Silent Wind comes. Dance for the prisoners," Heron said as he looked about the area, seeing no real escape, "and hope they enjoy it."

The silence was spreading as Adorjan blew across the shell, killing everything that lived. Heron wondered about Ivory for a moment, wondering if she could find a way to survive the coming wind. He could give no more through to her, for the Silent Wind was almost upon him. Even the protection he enjoyed might not turn the Silent Wind.

Heron turned back to the Dragon Blood, pausing by the body of one of the dead attackers to tear the cloak from the corpse. When he reached the wounded man he knelt down and pushed the cloth under the armour, against the wound, slapping away the Dragon Blood's hands as he tried to stop him.

He grabbed the man's hand and placed it over the wound, making the him push down hard. "Can you sing?"

"What?"

"Sing. Can you sing?"

"I don't un…"

"I don't need you to understand. I need you to sing loud or die."

Confusion was obvious, but he started singing:

'_There's a saucy wild packet, and a packet of fame;_

_ She belongs to the Empire, and the Dreadnought's her name;_

_ She is bound to the westward where the stormy winds blow;_

_ Bound away in the Dreadnought, to the west'ard we'll go_.'

Heron Grabbed the man by one of the jade pauldrons and dragged him across the plaza. "Keep singing, and louder." The death of the Silent Wind was growing closer.

'_The time of her sailing is now drawing nigh;_

_Farewell, pretty Mei, I must bid you good-bye;_

_ Farewell to the Empire and all there we hold dear,_

_ Bound away in the Dreadnought, to the west'ard we'll steer._'

Heron kicked a door in, pulled the man after him. No simple walls would protect anyone from Adorjan; nothing really would once the Silent Wind blew across a shell, but he was not about to give up.

He descended a set of stairs, the dragon blood bouncing down behind him, still managing to sing. Heron kicked open more doors as moved deeper under the city, breaking out into the catacombs.

The song had continued, of the Dreadnaught, its crew and travels to the West. In the catacombs the song echoed and grew. "Sing louder, prove that you deserved to be chosen by the Dragons," Heron yelled, and then began to sing with the man, for the song was common enough. Noise was the only chance they had.

The edges of the wind had followed and caught up with him, just eddies on the of the front, but it was as if clubs were hitting him.

The two sang, echoes booming around them, the noise denying the Silent Wind, but the two of them could only do so much. Heron's anima was like a bonfire around him, making him the brightest as well as the loudest thing in the deep catacombs.

Other voices began to take up the song, as things moved about him in the shadows and in the tunnels that paralleled the one he travelled in. They shared the terror of the Silent Wind and followed the Solar's cue in hope of surviving.

He ran and sang, dragging the weight of the man behind him, leading a choir of demons in the dark, making them lift their voices to deny the death that came for them. His throat began to hurt, and he could hear the Dragon Blood coughing on every third word. He was not sure how long they would keep it up.

The Silent Wind's presence was suddenly gone as the noise of the song had grown in such volume as to be painful. Heron stumbled out into vast vault, the light of his anima illuminating terrible carvings on the nearby walls, and a single, dancing figure who capered in the middle of the room.

Heron stopped singing, no longer afraid of Adorjan for a much greater danger had presented itself. He released the Dragon Blood and walked forward. He had never seen the dancer, but knew of him by reputation.

The dancer smiled at Heron, a smile full of hate and cruelty. He was brass skinned, beautiful, with long blue hair and gently curving horns that flowed down the sides of his head. Heron felt blood flush his body, his penis swelling and his pants growing uncomfortably tight.

"Gate Breaker," the brass skinned dancer spoke in a voice sweet and terrible, like a hurricane through wind chimes.

Heron swallowed and fought to keep his voice from breaking as he answered, "Lord Malfeas, you do me an honour to speak my name."

Malfeas laughed.

It was as if long nailed hands scratched down his chest to cup his balls.

He took in a trembling breath as he ejaculated.

"What do you seek Gate Breaker?"

Heron supposed that if there was a time to answer that question, it was now. Still, he picked his words carefully. "I seek to know of how you and the others built Creation."

Malfeas did not cease his dancing as he spoke, "Seek out Lieger and ask your question," his steps took him away from Heron, "you have entertained me, and for that there will be a reward."

Heron stood there as Malfeas danced out of the light, disappearing, but his presence was heavy in the room. Heron was breathing heavily, still painfully hard.

He turned towards the dragon blood who was where Heron had dropped him, up against the wall, breathing heavily as well, eyes speaking a want.

"Who are you?" the Dragon Blood asked.

"Heron Jade Eyes, Eclipse Caste of the Unconquered Sun." He dropped to his knees in front of the other man, glad that Ivory was not with him. "Your new master." He grabbed the other man and kissed him, putting all his inflamed passions into it. He felt the dragon blood's answering zeal.

He broke the kiss. "What is your name?"

The dragon blood was breathing heavily, glassy eyed. "Corvid once of the Grass Spiders, now no loyalty to anyone."

"Swear your loyalty to me." Heron's hands sought out the hidden latches on the armour, popping them so he could remove it.

"I swear my loyalty and service to you, Heron Jade Eyes," Corvid said, breathing heavily. "I will follow your orders and put your life before mine in all things."

Heron's anima flared. "Heaven witnesses and binds your oath," he said as he stripped the other man of his armour, desperate in his need to slake his lusts.

* * *

Ivory had been somewhat embarrassed when she had learned that Heron knew more of Malfeas that she did. It seemed somewhat of a failing for the type of sorceress she fancied herself.

However what the coming of the Silent Wind portend was something almost any student of Malfean Lore would understand.

As Adarjon descended upon the shell, sinking even into the deepest catacombs, Ivory stood to face it. And where it destroyed demon and mortal alike (including all of those that hunted her) Ivory was unharmed. The charm she called upon was the same one that had shielded her from the Wyld Explosion that had tainted the lands of Thorns. Where she stood was an island of Creation, and by the laws of Creation the Silent Wind would not blow.

Safe, she wandered the catacombs, while all about her Adarjon brought death. It was terrible and terrifying and amazing all at the same time. She mostly felt as if she wanted to cry, but sometimes she though she might want to laugh, and few times she wished so much that someone might hold her.

Eventually the Silent Wind stopped leaving Ivory alone and lost.

Lost she supposed she could deal with, eventually.

Her caste mark provided her with the light she needed to see as she wandered the empty, quiet catacombs. She was certain all about her was death, but she was fortunate in that she did not see much evidence of it.

The vastness about her was already disturbing enough without having to step over corpses.

She crossed a narrow walkway over an abyss of darkness, to a butte of brass. Stairs spiralled around the outside of the butte and Ivory started down them. Down and down she climbed, the height of the individual stairs making her descent more difficult, and after a time the muscles in her legs were burning.

She was beginning to wonder if she would ever reach the bottom when the light of caste mark fell upon end of the stair case and the surface of a subterranean lake. A boat of brass and black stone was tied to an eyelet hook set in the material of the butte.

She stood on the lowest stair, just above the liquid, and looked around.

"Does anyone mind if I take this boat?" she asked, and received no answer except for the echo of her voice coming back to her over the water.

"Darken Gray can't fault me for not asking," she said softly and untied the anchoring rope (which was woven of brass wires and a pliant material that felt a little like hair) then climbed into the boat.

There were oars, and she found some that fit her hands well enough. After setting them into the oarlocks she started rowing.

She was a little clumsy in her rowing, for it had been some time since she had last played in small boats in the pond near her house. In time it came back to her, and the small craft began to move faster.

It did not take long after that, certainly not as long as it had taken her to climb down the stairs, for the keel of the boat to scrape over stone as it came into the shallows at the edge of the lake.

She used and oar to push the boat closer to a jetty, then climbed from it, tying the boat off before leaving.

The corridors and the caverns beyond the lake were more raw in their construction, the walls less worked, often rough, with uneven floors. She began to feel the movement of air, and used the feeble breezes to orient herself.

In time the darkness began to fade as light filtered in, the black becoming grey, and she no longer needed the light of her caste mark to light her way.

She saw a bright, green light at the end of a tunnel and walked towards it.

Ivory stepped out of the tunnel, onto a roughly carved balcony upon the lower part of the shell. Skipping excitedly to the low railing she leaned out on it, looking about, enjoying the feel of fresh air and light, though the air was tainted with poisons and the light green.

Still lost, but she was alive, and no longer underground.

Leaning father out, looking to her left and right she spotted something in the distance.

Opening her parasol Ivory strolled along the balcony walk, towards what looked like a web stretching between the shell she was on and another shell. Closer still she saw it was a suspension bridge, wires woven together to hold the long span up.

Enchanted with the construct, she ran along the balcony until she reached it. A large tunnel led back into the shell she had just exited. On the other side she could make out structures that had been carved into the side of the opposite shell.

Having had more than enough of being underground she chose to cross the bridge, stepping out onto it. The strange planking that formed the walkway bounced ever so slightly under her foot.

Running along it, each stride a small jump, hardly caused any more of a bounce than a soft step, and when Ivory had dashed about a hundred steps she turned to look back the way she had come. Spaced amongst the cables were many springs, both large and small, and she supposed that they would allow some flex were the two shells to move.

"Amazing," she said happily, and jumped up and down, hoping that she might feel more of a flex, see the effect of the springs, but her small weight seemed inconsequential to the support structure.

Ivory turned back the way she had been walking and spotted someone, more likely something, walking towards her. She thought about retreating, in case it was a threat, but chose instead to continue forward.

Just past the centre of the bridge Ivory came to face the other pedestrian. She was a beautiful woman, delicate, inhuman, with auburn hair and flawless skin. It was her eyes that made it clear she was no mortal, for neither had iris or pupil: the left rippled in shades of aquamarine, the right glittered with the colours of rust.

Her red, tight dress was long, dragging behind her, looking like silk, and over it she wore a short, black velvet jacket, and a silver, fox fur stole around her neck. Gold and jewels adorned her neck and wrists, and from a golden belt around her slim waist hung a sword with a golden, bell hand guard.

Her left hand rested on the hilt of the sword, her gaze lazily sweeping over Ivory. She stopped.

Though there was plenty of room for them to pass by each other Ivory stopped as well.

"Would you like some candy little girl?" the demon asked.

The banality of the question stole Ivory's reply for a few seconds. Then she said, "I was taught to never take candy from strangers. I also don't think you have any candy."

"I am called Janequin, also known as Fortune's Fool. There, I am no longer a stranger."

"That's not how it works," Ivory said weakly.

"As it just so happens I do have some candy, from Creation." From a fold of velvet in her jacket she took out a red and white striped paper bag with a familiar, brightly printed logo on it.

Ivory paused for a moment, then performed a passable curtsey (hard to do properly when watching the person in front of you) before she stepped forward to take the bag. "Thank you Janequin, Indulgent Soul. I am called Golden Eyes of Creation, Twilight Caste."

"Adorable, smart and cagey, I am surprised you have not been snapped up and made a dear little pet."

Ivory bit back her first reply, which would have certainly come across as bravado, and instead told Janequin, "I am under the protection of an Eclipse."

Janequin smiled and nodded. "Heron the Gate Breaker. It was him I actually sought when I heard of today's entertainment. However, it was you I found instead. It must be lucky."

Ivory had taken a look at the bag, noted the logo was indeed for a one of the finest confectionaries on the Blessed Isle. It took her a moment to process what Janequin had said. "You were looking for He.. the Gate Breaker?"

Janequin turned and stepped closer to the edge of the walkway, rested her weight upon the cable guardrail, and leaned forward, looking out at the sky. "Of course. Such a skilled gambler, and a pretty one as well." She sighed. "Last time he was here it was Sigereth, that boxy bitch, that got to him first. When I heard he was back I was most excited." She looked over her shoulder at Ivory and smiled. "Do you think you might speak well of me Golden Eyes? I would truly love to face him over a game of cards."

"I suppose I can tell him," Ivory said, not sure she really wanted to. Introducing Heron to a beautiful woman (demon notwithstanding) galled her.

"That would be wonderful." She tossed her arms out.

There was a sound, a metallic pattering and deep thrum of a base chord. Ivory looked towards the sound and saw one of the massive cables had snapped.

"Oh dear," Janequin said, "how improbable."

Another cable snapped and Ivory said something that she hoped Darken Gray would never learn of. Janequin laughed.

"You should run," Janequin said to Ivory as another cable snapped. "You might get off the bridge."

"No," Ivory said, and stepped closer to the demon. She held out her hand. "I think I'll be safer with you."

"Really?"

"I understand you always come out of such improbable events alright."

Janequin laughed and took Ivory's hand. Another cable snapped and the bridge tilted dramatically.

Several cables snapped at once and the bridge fell, taking Janequin and Ivory with it. Janequin continued to laugh as she pulled Ivory close against her and then sprung away from the wreckage of the once beautiful bridge.

"Quite exciting don't you think?" Janequin shouted.

Ivory was not certain she agreed, for the free fall through the shells of Malfeas seemed a little more terrifying than exciting.

Ivory was thinking of a spell, and was prepared to cast one when they hit something. It felt as if Janequin took the brunt of the impact, but the surface they landed on was surprisingly soft. It also seemed as if the surface had somehow matched their fall, so that first impact was almost glancing.

Together they rolled across the surface, until they came to a stop. Ivory, still tightly holding Janequin, looked down to see they rested upon a surface of crimson, fluttering, paper sheets, some of which would be caught by the wind and pulled free to tumble away. On one sheet that fluttered by Ivory was written, in gold script, '_tyrant lizards are native to the jungles of the South_.'

"What.." Ivory said when Janequin put a hand over her mouth to silence her.

A deep voice that rumbled the surface they rested upon asked, "What gnats have landed upon me, speak now or I turn over and drop you. Then I will snap you from the air and know what I need!"

"Halkomelem, it seems luck would have my fall come to a stop upon you. I am Janequin, Indulgent Soul of The Misconstrued Counsellor."

"I know who Janequin is, and I know of your luck," Halkomelem bellowed from beneath them. "Get off."

Another piece of paper blew close to Ivory. She caught and brought it close so she could read it. It was a recipe for bread pudding.

"Surely you could give me a ride now that I am here. Just turn a little to your left and descend."

"Do not try my patience."

"Please Halkomelem, I'll tell you something I learned about the politics of Nexus. It was only a year ago when I visited the city."

"I might simply eat you and know all you know."

"Oh Halkomelem, do you really want to end up fighting me? Who nows what might happen?"

Ivory felt a grumbling in the body beneath her. "Very well." The giant form they were on turned to the left and began to descend.

"It seems Ephiselle the Midnight Queen seeks to increase the number of spies and informants within the city. Can you believe that she tried to recruit me? A little more to the left, and down between those two shells."

"Did she not recognize you?" Halkomelem asked.

"I was wearing glasses. But spies aside, Hayle the Midday Husband hopes to get some of the Civilities relating to the Midnight Queen's operations changed so that a playwright might craft a spy thriller."

"Interesting," Halkomelem said.

It was a little like listening to gossiping wives, Ivory thought.

"Now of course you know that Hayle is not going to influence Ephiselle on his own, so he has gone to seek help from Katz the Astrologer. See the black tower there, fly to the left of it."

So it continued with Janequin telling Halkomelem of the political plots in Nexus, while giving directions.

She had just finished the story and asked Halkomelem to drop between two of the buildings and land upon a street below when she took a solid hold of Ivory and rolled them both off the paper.

They landed gently on A rooftop and Janequin pulled Ivory to her feet. Ivory looked over her shoulder and saw a huge serpent, easily a hundred yards long. It was made of the crimson paper, covered with the golden script, several of the pages blew across the roof top. It looked at if it was trying to turn, but the space between the buildings was too narrow for it.

"Let's go," Janequin said, leading Ivory to a door, pushing it open. Behind it was a steep staircase. "Down we go, hurry."

"That was Halkomelem?"

"Yes, a behemoth, rather powerful. We don't want him to figure out who you are."

"Why?" Janequin was pulling her down the stairs, and it was only the grip on her wrist that kept Ivory from falling.

"He seeks knowledge, and he learns everything that a thing he eats knew. If he found out there was a Twilight on his back, well, he would tear this building down to get to you."

There was a booming around them, and the walls shook. "He might tear this building down just to find out why I bailed."

"Where are we going?"

The building shook again and Janequin pulled Ivory up into her arms. "Ultimately the Forge of Night and its keeper, but for the moment, just away from here." She laughed as she flew down the stairs, deeper into the building.

* * *

Corvid stumbled through the deep corridors, hand pressed against the wound in his side. After being abandoned in the depths of the shell had had lain there, waiting for his strength to return.

He had not hoped that anyone would save him. Adorjan's passage through the shell had killed most, and those that survived had probably fled when Malfeas' joutan had arrived. And the Solar had earlier killed anyone that might have been willing to come to his rescue.

The pain of his wound exhausted him, and he fell several times. "Bastard couldn't have dragged me out of here," he said as he stumbled and collapsed to his knees. "Fuck."

He was getting to his feet when something grabbed him from behind. He tried to swing around, but the grip on him was solid.

"Aren't you a wonderful mess," a high, feminine voice said, her breath tickling his ear. She licked him, tongue running along his throat and up behind his ear. "You taste like shame, delicious."

He was released, pushed against the wall. He turned, hissed in pain, and faced his latest tormentor.

She looked human, though her skin was unnaturally pale. She smiled at him with teeth that had been filed to points. "Your name?" she asked.

In the faint illumination of the tunnel he looked her over. Well dressed, good armour, a flame wand of sorts across her back. Her black hair was neatly styled, and she was clean.

She was probably someone important.

"Corvid."

"Of any house?"

He shook his head.

She looked at him, head canted to the side, considering him. Her eyes were almond shaped and an impossibly dark blue.

"Do you want to kill the Solar?"

"What?"

"Poor, ill used Corvid, tasting like shame for the passions the Dancing Lord enflamed in him. Do you want to kill him, the Solar who used you so?"

"I swore an oath," Corvid said.

She laughed, like breaking glass. "Oh, how wonderful." Then she stopped laughing, the sound cut off sharply. "So you swore an oath, Break it. Why be afraid. That's why they are stuck here." She waved her hand dismissively, the gesture taking in all around them, and Corvid thought everything beyond. "Accept your destruction and break the oath. Think of the enjoyment you will feel when you see the surprise in his eyes." The last part came out like a growl, and she put her knees together, bending slightly, slid her hands down between her legs. "I think I came."

Corvid took a step away.

She looked up at him. "I'd take you right now if I did not think it would kill you." She straightened and reached into a small pouch at her side and removed a bone white card. "If you get out of here alive, and survive long enough to seek me, you will find me here." She stepped forward, placed the card in his hands and then walked by him.

"Why would I come looking for you?" Corvid asked, his tone curious, not angry.

"Cause whether you betray him or not, you can see the Solar again," she answered, not looking back. "Hate him, love him, I don't care, I'll use either."

Corvid looked at the card; the address was on the Boulevard of Candied nightmares, and the name on it was Venerous.

He looked up, but she was already gone. He looked back at the card for several seconds, then slid it into his armour, took a deep breath, and continued on.

* * *

Feedback from Reviews

TalosX10: Glad to hear that you are enjoying the stories enough to read them more than once. I am looking forward to see what is done with the Third Edition, though the changes in the history (I know they are changing the signature characters) my make me think of some retconning if I continue to write these stories. I appreciate hearing from anyone who is reading my work. Thanks.

* * *

Music

Janequin on the bridge - Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds by The Beatles

Ivory in the Catacombs - Alice by Aviril Lavine

Venerous - A Thousand Kisses Deep by Leonard Cohen


	19. The Forge of Night

**The Forge of Night**

* * *

Heron arranged for a team of the winged, humanoid unju to fly a palanquin back to the Street of the Hopeful Slave. He was exhausted, dirty, and angry, though he was careful to hide the last. For the moment Ivory was lost to him, but he supposed she would be safe enough if she did not do anything stupid.

He felt relatively certain she would not do anything stupid.

Leaning back into the padded seat he reached up and pounded on the ceiling. The palanquin lurched and swung as the unju took to the air, dragging the box into up with them. The streets passed below as they flew over the demon city. Soon they passed between shells, and more of the demon city flew by. Eventually the the unju spiralled down towards the Street of the Hopeful Slave. Heron spotted the Foremost Gale sitting on the sand at the edge of the district. He was not really surprised, and it made sense.

The palanquin dropped down towards an open area near the middle of the street. The unju spread their wings, slowing the descent so when the palanquin touched the street it was only with a soft thump. Then the unju landed, pulling the harness cables out of their way.

Heron got out and started up the street, towards Julline's workshop. He saw the demons in the area looking at him, talking, exchanging money and other valuables. He was curious as to what odds the bookies had on him, but he did not ask.

He found Julline setting up a cannon behind her shop, sighting out over the endless desert. She turned away from directing her assistants to welcome Heron back.

"I suppose I was entertaining enough?"

She smiled. "I like how you don't get angry."

"There is little point at getting angry about the way things are."

"Glad to hear it! And yes, as I understand it you were quite entertaining. Racked up the impressive kill total, and did it with style." She looked about. "Where is dear Golden Eyes?"

"Golden Eyes is out there somewhere," he pointed out over the city.

"Aren't you worried about her? She might be dead?" Julline smiled.

Heron shook his head. "She is not likely to sell her life cheaply."

"Such trust."

"She knocked a mountain out of the sky."

Julline did not say anything for a moment. "Fair point."

"I am going to clean up," Heron said as he walked towards the workshop.

"Do you want to talk to Florivet?" Julline called after him.

"Not sure yet." Someone was going to have to help him get to Lieger, but he was not sure if Florivet was the one to ask for aid.

* * *

Halkomelem had not continued his attempt to batter his way after them, but Janequin had not slowed her pace, and Ivory had had to run to keep up. Janequin had taken Ivory down, into the underground passages. They were not like those of the other shell, for these tunnels were well lit, and full of industrious demons.

More than once she had wanted to dig her heels in, to demand that Janequin slow, so she might look at something interesting. However she suspected that Janequin would simply drag her along, leaving Ivory to flutter and bounce like a rag doll.

"Can you slow down a little?" Ivory said, as they descended a steep staircase.

Janequin look back at Ivory, smiled, and with a quick motion pulled Ivory up into her arms. "There you go."

"Put me down," Ivory said, more surprised than angry.

"Little girls who can't keep up should not complain," Janequin said.

Ivory knew she was pouting a few second later, and let her lips relax so she did not wear her upset so openly. She did not argue the point any further. They began to move faster, Janequin holding Ivory tight, and Ivory having to wrap her arms around her. She felt rather helpless at that moment, as if she were a toddler.

In time the light dimmed and faded, though the corridors they moved through were as well formed as any other Ivory had seen. She shifted as much as she could in Janequin's embrace, taking in what she might.

"Don't worry about the insects," Janequin said. "They just like being around her, and they know better than to get underfoot."

"They like to be around her? And what insects?"

"You'll see soon, and she made most of them. She likes bugs, and they like her. Of course she is not some crazy bug lady… as far as I have been able to tell."

Janequin slowed her pace and lowered Ivory to the floor, keeping a hold on her hand. Ivory started slightly for the walls and ceilings around them were covered in bugs, in some places so thick that they made the surface writhe. Ivory had not really thought she was afraid of bugs, but to have so many of them about was frightening, even after the warning. Still, none of them were on the floor; had she had to walk through a field of crunching bodies she was certain she would not have had an easy time continuing.

They came out of the corridor into what could only be the forge. Lit only by starlight, within the centre of the room was a vast anvil, and around it were ordered so many other tools of the forge that Ivory could not identify all of them.

Ivory was looking about as Janequin called out, "Alveua, you have visitors."

Almost immediately, suggesting she was already aware of her visitors, the Keeper of the Forge of Night stepped from behind a large cauldron, Alveua appeared to be a young, slim woman, with red hair. Over her shoulder she carried a huge hammer. The head of the hammer was easily the size of a cow, and it glowed as if red hot.

As she walked closer Ivory could see Alveua was beautiful, and her dress was made of shiny black metal. In the light of the stars and the glow of the hammer Ivory spotted a small pair of horns peaking out from her hair. Her gaze dropped down to Ivory for a moment, but returned to Janequin.

"What are you here for Janequin?" Her voice was level, but there was a hint of what Ivory thought was exasperation—a tone she herself was not completely unfamiliar with.

"Thank you for your kind welcome."

The hammer shaft slid through Alveua's fingers, so that the butt of the shaft hit the floor, loudly, actually causing the surface under their feet vibrate.

"Yes yes," Janequin said, "I'll get to the point. I am here to pay the final balance on the sword you made for me."

"Oh?"

"Here you go," she said, and pulled Ivory around to stand in front of her, released her hand, and gave Ivory a push towards Alveua.

"Hey!" Ivory yelled.

"Unacceptable payment," Alveua said at the same time.

"Why not?" Janaequin asked. "What do you mean?" Ivory asked at the same time.

"I do not deal in mortals, as valuable as some might be," that was directed towards Ivory, "regardless that I forge them."

"I'm not giving her to you you silly hooker. Did you not say you would forgive me all my debts if I could provide you with an intelligent conversation?"

Ivory wondered if the expression that Alveua wore was in anyway similar to that she might be making. There was a certain amount of surprise and disbelief in that countenance.

"I did not…"

"Golden Eyes here is a Twilight, brilliance of the Unconquered Sun. She can give you that conversation that you want. And she'll do anything you want if you give her candy."

"Hey!" Ivory said, turning to face Janequin. "That's not true."

Janequin smiled at her, then gave her another push, harder this time, which sent Ivory stumbling right at Alveua. She windmilled her arms and fell back onto her bottom, right at Alveua's feet. "Deal?"

Above her Alveua sighed. "Very well."

"Excellent. Will you see she gets back to the Street of the Hopeful Slave?"

"I can find my own way back," Ivory said from where she sat.

"I will do so."

"Good." Janequin smiled broadly. "Remember Golden Eyes, I want an invitation to meet the Gate Breaker." And with that she was gone, having turned on her heel and strode away.

Ivory felt Alveua's arm slide around her, then she was lifted to her feet.

Ivory turned about once her feet were on the floor. Alveua looked her over and then said, "Would you like to see my forge and workshop?"

"Yes," Ivory said almost immediately, forgetting that she had been upset a moment before. It was a chance to see an impressive manufacturing facility.

"Come along." She walked away from Ivory, towards the large anvil in the centre of the hall.

The flat, black metal of the anvil was perfectly smooth, Ivory reached out to touch it, finding it cool. The size was in proportion to the hammer that Alveua handled.

Ivory looked up at her, for a moment feeling shy (not a feeing she was used to) and then asked, her words running into each other, "Do you really forge people?"

The demon was looking at Ivory is a manner that made Ivory feel a little uncomfortable. "I do, if someone wishes it. I bring them here, and reshape them, flesh to metal, a peerless object."

"How?"

"Would you like me to show you? We would need a mortal supplicant."

It was an idea that frightened her at the same time it excited her, for it seemed an amazing thing. After a moment she said, "Not this time," she paused, "do you have any finished objects?" The question made her feel guilty, but she still asked.

"No, such things are returned to Creation immediately."

"Why?"

"Because the item holds the desires of who it was forged from, and those desires are only met in Creation." She looked at the forge as she spoke. "A stalwart friend becomes a breastplate. The vain lord a crown. A mother becomes a chastity belt to protect a daughter's virtue."

"Pardon?" Ivory said for the last.

"This forge has seen more than one chastity belt created on its surface. I don't pretend to understand it, but it is the shape that some take."

Ivory looked to the forge, and then to Alveua and the hammer she carried. She wondered how many had been placed on the anvil, looking up at the demon, to see the glowing head of the hammer coming down at them. How long were they aware for?

"There are other things to see," Alveua told her, and then walked away. Ivory followed after a moment, not looking back at the Anvil.

There was indeed much to see in the workshop, tools that Ivory knew, and others she had never seen before. Alveua demonstrated some; a powerful pump that used high pressured liquid to cut metal, a device that laid down layers of metal, one at a time, until it created a finished object.

Ivory was amazed at it all and soon forgot any trepidation she felt being in Alveua's presence. They spoke of Alveua's work as they went, an animated discussion on the crafting of various devices. It was, for the young Solar, an amazing opportunity, and no doubt quite a dangerous one.

"Tell me what you think of this?" Alveua said, directing Ivory to a worktable covered in small pieces of metal, a rack on it holding a number of metalworking tools.

Ivory stepped close, going up on her tip toes to better see what was on it.

She identified some of the pieces as belonging to the projectile weapons that Julline made, and others looked more like those from a plasma tongue repeater. They were made of a number of materials, the brass of the demon city, golden orichalcium, steel from Creation, and soul steel.

The soul steel interested Ivory, and she picked up an essence regulator made from the black metal. It was cold in her fingers, and the metal moaned softly.

"Does this work?"

"Not yet," Alveua said.

Ivory lifted it and held it up, so that it was back-lit by the glowing hammer.

"I made something like this for the tiger gun," she said.

"Tiger gun?"

"That's what I call it, cause the plasma takes on the form of a tiger," she trailed off a little, wondering if Alveua thought it was a stupid name.

"I see. Shaped through a small essence expenditure?"

Ivory nodded. "Yes. I got the idea from He.. the Gate Breaker's weapons."

"Have you worked much with soul steel."

Ivory shook her head, still holding up the part up. "It would effect the essence flow, I think."

"It is suitable for the essence of the Underworld." Alveua said 'Underworld' as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Ivory nodded as she turned and placed the regulator back on the table. She climbed up onto the table surface, careful not to kneel on any parts. "I think you've got to ground it," she said, looking through a small pile of scrap metal. She chose a piece and took a small cutter from the tool rack.

The tip of her tongue sticking out from between her lips as she focused on the metal, Ivory snipped away at the scrap until it took on the shape she wanted. She switched out tools, used a pair of thin pliers to grip the object she had crafted.

"I'd use white jade for this," Ivory told Alveua as she picked up the regulator. Once more, focused completely on the task, she gently pushed the grounding metal into the regulator.

"Here," she said, holding it out to the demon.

Alveua took it, looked at it, examining closely. "A little rough," she said, but before Ivory could take offence she added, "but done so quickly, quite impressive."

"What are you making that for?" Ivory asked, thinking that perhaps it was a question she should have asked first.

"I am summoned to Creation to create great objects. There are those who serve the Underworld who might call me. I will be prepared if that happens."

It was a believable answer, and there was truth to it, Ivory was certain, but she supposed there was something hidden. It was not something she might call Alveua on, nor was she in the situation to demand an answer, not while she was in Malfeas.

Perhaps when she returned to Creation; if she wanted to know.

However, there was an opportunity here.

"Alveua-dono," she said respectfully, shifting on the table, still kneeling, to directly face her, "If… if I wanted to know somethin' about Creation… about how it was built. Say I wanted to know about some flaw…"

"You would ask me to tell you about such a flaw?"

Ivory nodded.

Alveua placed the regulator back on the table, stepping closer to Ivory. Kneeling on the table as Ivory was they were nearly eye to eye.

"Do you know my philosophy little Twilight?"

Ivory shook her head.

A gentle hand brushed Ivory's cheek. "If I had the shaping of all things, as I have for those I re-forge, then the Yozis would not be imprisoned, the gods could not rebel against them, the mortals would not be so bold, and both harmony and happiness should fill the world." She smiled. "So what you ask me for, to tell you of the flaws, that is anathema to me."

"I see," Ivory said, a little disappointed that she did not have her answer.

"I am sorry that I could not tell you what you want." She took Ivory's hand and helped her down from the table. "Were I to re-forge you I would only see that you were more obedient and I would think you near perfect."

Ivory had to think about that for a moment before she said, "Thank you, I think."

"Come along, I promised to see you safely returned to the Street of the Hopeful Slave."

There were more questions she wanted to ask, about many of the wonders within the workshop, but she could tell the her time with the Keeper of the Forge of Night had come to an end.

She was led into a darkened corridor, lit only by the glow of the hammer, until they came to a large gate.

In front of the gate stood a single figure, a black cloak completely hiding its form.

Alveua stopped, releasing Ivory's hand. "I did not expect you to come here my Lady."

The tone was respectful, but there was something else in it that Ivory could not readily identify.

"Should I apologize for not meeting your expectations?" The voice was feminine, rich and sweet and dark and deep, all at the same time. The inflection placed on 'expectations' reminded Ivory of when she had cut herself; the hiss of indrawn breath as the first bit of pain hit.

She was glad that the question had not been directed at her.

Not so lucky, Alveua did not seem pleased to have it directed at her, but she maintained her calm better than Ivory thought she herself might. "It was only my surprise that you would do me such a great honour of coming here my Lady."

The cloak moved, suggested a nod. "I see. I suppose I can understand that."

"Thank you my Lady."

"Your guest has piqued my interest. I will see her safely on her way."

"Of course my Lady."

Ivory was not certain that she wanted to be seen safely on her way by the mysterious person, but, as Janequin had done, Alveua gave Ivory a push towards the cloaked figure, then turned and left her.

Ivory stumbled forward a few steps, then got her balance and stopped her forward motion. She was pleased that this time she had not fallen on her bottom.

Perhaps she had moved farther than she thought, or, more likely, the cloaked figure had stepped forward. Ivory stood almost right in front of her, looking up. The shadows of the cowl hid the figure's face, and Ivory could see nothing of it.

Lifting an arm the figure reached out towards Ivory, the material of the cloak slipped away, revealing a human looking hand, well cared for skin, manicured nails, rings upon the fingers, one ring grander than the rest, but for some reason Ivory could not see it clearly.

She gently ran her fingers through Ivory's short hair. "Such a beautiful shade of red, you should grow it longer."

Ivory could only nod.

"Take my hand."

Ivory did so.

The gate opened and Ivory was led out into a large plaza, lit by the green light of Ligier.

"You wear Darengest's cloak," the figure, a woman Ivory was certain now, said.

"She gave it to me," Ivory said.

"I am aware Ivory Peleps, and I know who you are, as do any of the souls of the Ebon Dragon. It affords you some protection from them, but only some."

Ivory wanted to ask the cloaked woman who she was, but could not think of a way to phrase that question that would not border on rude.

"There is something wonderful about an eternal child, don't you think?"

"I don't think so," Ivory said, trying to keep her tone even, for she had chosen it of her own free will—for some reason she did not want this woman to think she was whining.

The woman laughed, delightful and cruel at the same time. "Some of my children might have been better off stuck in childhood forever."

"You have children?" Ivory asked, surprised.

"A few," the woman said dismissively. "None really met my expectations." She gave Ivory's hand a gentle squeeze. "Strive to be the perfect little girl, it will suit you."

Ivory shook her head. "I'm gonna be so much more."

"Perhaps." She laughed.

It was such a dismissive sound, Ivory had to resist the urge to pull her hand free of the woman's grasp. It would not help, she supposed.

"What reason did you come to Malfeas?" she asked.

Ivory, surprised, did not answer for a moment. "The Gate Breaker and I are lookin' for information about the time before the first age."

"What information?"

"About objects of power, things forgotten."

From the shadows of the cowl Ivory was certain she was being stared at, her words being weighed for their truth. "How interesting," the woman finally said.

Ivory did not think she believed her, but the woman did not pursue that line of questioning. Instead she asked Ivory what sights of Malfeas she had seen, and made suggestions of things she might want to see before she left. It was, to Ivory, somewhat surreal, as if the woman had become a tour guide.

"I have enjoyed speaking with you Ivory," the woman said some time later. "I hope we might meet again." She let got of Ivory's hand.

"Thank you for your kindness," Ivory said, and dipped into a curtsey.

"A companion to take you where you wish to go," the woman told her, sweeping out her hand.

Ivory followed the gesture and saw an agata perched upon a low wall; Talmon. When Ivory looked back she found the woman gone; she was alone with the agate.

"Strange," Ivory said softly as she walked to where Talmon waited.

"Do you know who that was?" Ivory asked as she climbed upon Talmon's back.

"No," the agata told her, "not really. A new player in the city." Talmon took to the air. "One of the Ebon Dragon's."

"You must know more," Ivory pressed.

"Just that there is talk that the Ebon Dragon is getting married, and that maybe the one in the black cloak is to be his bride."

* * *

Heron had rested up, taken the time to wash the blood from his hands, and other places it had splashed. He tossed aside his shirt, dirty with perspiration and the smell of fire, and changed into a fresh one.

He lay on the narrow, but comfortable bed, hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling. Outside he heard the sounds of the streets, occasionally shattered by the boom of Julline's cannon.

Where was Ivory? How was he to get to Ligier? How much longer might he remain in Malfeas before the Yozis decided they wanted more entertainment?

Getting to Ligier would be difficult, if he wanted to maintain some secrecy. Were he to be too obvious questions would be asked, and it was not impossible that news would reach Creation, Yu-Shan, the gods and the Sidereals.

Success counted on as much secrecy as he could maintain.

His thoughts were temporarily interrupted by a soft knock on his door. From beyond one of Julline's many assistants said, "Golden Eyes has returned."

Heron was up on his feet, leaving the room, stepping around the demon, moving quickly. He exited the workshop a few moments before an agata landed close by, Ivory sliding from its back. Heron thought the demon was Talmon, but it lifted off and flew away before he could be certain.

Ivory waved at him, as if she had been off on a picnic or something. She did look it, clean and as tidy as Darken Gray could have wished. She put her parasol up and walked towards him.

"I'm back," Ivory said.

Heron smiled. "You don't seem like you were worried about me."

"I knew you'd be all right no mater what," she told him, smile bright.

"I am glad you are okay." He looked about. "Too many curious ears around here, come on, let's talk in my room."

In his room he closed the door, then pulled out a chair and swung it around to face the bed. Ivory had put her parasol and boots by the door and was seated on the bed, her feet tucked under her.

There was no guarantee of privacy in the room, so Heron was careful when he told Ivory what happened since they had been separated. He spoke of their mission in vague terms, and only told her that he had seen Malfeas and had been given permission to speak to Ligier.

Ivory told him of what had happened to her. He was surprised to learn she had met both Janequin and Alveua, glad to hear her question to the Keeper of the Forge of Night had been vague enough to give nothing away.

News of a bride of the Ebon Dragon was something had had not known.

"I've heard talk, since we arrived, that the Ebon Dragon had plans, but as I understand it he always has plans. Marriage though, that seems strange."

"I think the woman I met was mortal. Maybe demon blooded."

"Mortal enough either way. I would like to know more, but we are not here for that." He paused for a moment, thinking that he might see if he could get someone to look into it. "You said Janequin wanted to meet me?"

"Yes, she said that."

"I think we should try trusting in luck to get us where we are going. Do you think you can get word to her that I want to meet as well?"

Ivory nodded.

Heron reached out to pat her on the head. "Good girl. It's time to see if we can finish up here."

Ivory smiled happily at him.


	20. Sun Warmed Dragon Scales

**Sun Warmed Dragon Scales**

* * *

The ghosts climbed the hill, towards Sparrow's defensive line. They fell as they tried to reach the summit, unable to breach the defence. It was, had they not been ghosts, suicidal. Even for ghosts it was destructive and pointless. However they were simply following what they thought were valid orders.

Sparrow could almost feel bad for them.

She had sent Rappel into the enemy lines the day before, had him steal some of their signalling devices and one of their code books.

The ghost of a woman named Polliin commanded an army of almost one thousand ghosts. Well trained and drilled, ghosts that were quick to follow commands.

A very powerful force when Polliin was focused on it and sending her signals through relays. When Polliin was engaged in a fight for her existence with Red and Blue, and Rappel was sending up signals, that well trained force was at a slight disadvantage.

Rappel had split the force, sending them across the field, half of them pointlessly guarding their rear, and the other half charging up a hill that was going to destroy them.

Sparrow stood on the point of the defensive line, swinging her daiklaive about her, cutting down ghosts, her anima flaring around her. As the last of the ghosts close to her fell she looked about, took the scope of the battle in. She waved her sword and signalled with it, pointing towards their flank, and a gentle slope up which most of the ghosts were trying to ascend.

A line of archers moved into position and opened up, sending their arrows scything down that slope. Some of the arrows, fuelled by essence, punched through many ghosts at once.

Sparrow started forward, angling down the hill, cutting her way through the enemy. By the time she reached the slope most of the ghosts had been felled, and her force was arrayed behind her.

Her next command was simply her charging forward, down towards where Polliin fought, and the ghosts that had been sent to the rear were finally coming around and moving towards the true fight.

Sparrow refused them any time to prepare, her line hit them, she at the point, and ripped through them. Her anima grew around her, becoming a bonfire of gold, the light of it bleaching the dark colours of the ghosts' clothing, each of her footsteps a light patch on the ground.

Ghosts attacked her, but their weapons broke against her, the few times they managed to land an attack. More often her daiklaive swept their attacks aside, before smashing them apart, banishing them to the Underworld, or Lethe or Oblivion.

As she wheeled around, her soldiers behind her, matching her movements, she came to face Polliin. Red and Blue had harried her, cut down many of her bodyguards, but Sparrow would finish her.

The golden fire around her blazed forth and took on the form of a gryphon. The huge image seemed to scream as Sparrow breached the line of war ghosts, broke through to face Polliin.

Armed with a great, soul steel sword the ghost tried to break Sparrow's defence, her sword swinging about, snake fast, seeking a hole in the Solar's guard. Stepping forward, daiklaive raised high to fend off the sword, Sparrow grabbed the ghost woman around her wrist. A pull dragged her forward, a kick knocked her to the ground.

Blue and Red came spinning around, their spears driving forward to pin Polliin to the ground.

"You living bastards," Polliin cursed and cried.

Sparrow stepped to stand over her, looked down at her. "Living, that's right. You are dead. Start acting like it." She lifted her daiklaive and brought it down, a hit that shattered the ghost.

"Should we chase them," Red asked, looking towards where the few ghosts fled.

Sparrow shook her head. "No, it's time Achiba learned of us."

"Do you think he'll come?" Blue asked her.

Sparrow looked away from the ruined armour that had once protected Polliin. "I don't think he will have a choice."

* * *

Three barges had floated past Vinleau, at the railings stood men and women, staring back at the villagers who watched with frank curiosity. The pilots of the barges seemed little concerned with the other river traffic, and as they passed by Vinleau there were angry shouts from craft forced to make rapid corrections.

Past Vinleau the barges continued down river. Several minutes later, as the camp of the Wyld Hunt came into view, the barges were turned towards the river banks. Orders were shouted out as the pilots and their men used long poles to lever the craft out of the centre of the river.

Again, little concern was given to the other boats on the water, and a small skiff was capsized, unable to get clear soon enough. Close by, on another skiff, several men leaned into the poles, making towards the splashing victims of the swamped skiff. They yelled insults as they went.

Finally the barges grounded in the shallows; first the trailing one, then the middle and leading ones at nearly the same time. Crew jumped down form the deck, dragging ropes as they splashed through the water, making the craft fast.

A gangway came down from the largest of the three barges, hitting the muddy bank with a loud, squelching. The man who strode down that wooden gangway was a giant, at least seven feet tall, dressed in green and brown, a green jade power bow over his shoulder. He carried a rigid box, the size of a small coffin, like a smaller man might carry a suitcase.

The skiff that had rescued the victims came to shore and several men scrambled out, shouting angrily.

"What are you doing?"

"Damn fool, you gonna kill someone."

"Cargo and the skiff, you'e paying for them!"

The large man reached out and grabbed one of the shouting men, lifted him with one arm as it he were nothing. "Shut up little mortal and cool your head off." He tossed the man from the bank and out into the river.

There was laughter from the sailors, and from other people on the barges. More men marched from the barges, dressed and armed in a similar manner to the first, but none of them were his size.

They came down the planking, each carrying a duffle bag or a pack, their hobnailed boots loud on the wood of the boarding planks. They marched in lose lines up the banks, towards where the ground levelled out and there was a packed dirt and gravel path. Their leader turned away from the man he had thrown into the water and headed up the bank himself.

When he got to the path he turned about, looking back the way he had come. "Fall in you lazy bastards and mothers of bastards," he bellowed in a voice that echoed over the water.

The men and women smiled and laughed, but they moved fast, up the banks and onto the gravel. They proceeded quickly, almost two hundred soldiers forming up into four groupings, each three men deep and at least fifteen long. They pushed people out of their way, knocked aside curious onlookers to clear space.

They looked rough and disreputable, but their fast movement and precise formations spoke of a well drilled unit.

Their leader watched all this, smiling. His face looked square, chiselled one might say, and he had dark green eyes and short, messy brown hair. Dark brown skin the colour of oak suggested at his caste. On the black cloak he wore was the symbol of house Tepet, crossed with three arrows.

He turned after a moment, standing erect. Approaching him, flanked by several monks, was Peleps Deled.

Deled stopped in front of the man, his gaze sweeping the soldiers arrayed there.

"You made excellent time Tyne," Deled said.

"You flatter me Deled-sama," he said as he bowed. "To smash Anathema I should have been here sooner."

Deled smiled coldly. "Tell me of your soldiers."

"I have trained them in the Eastern forest, bloodied them against the Wyld incursions, the beast men and those natives that would stand in our way. They are trained and brave, and not one of them bears that shame of the Tepet legions that is mine alone."

"We will purge some of that shame from you," Deled told him.

"The shame will not be lifted until I stand over the broken body of the Anathema called the Bull," he snarled through clenched teeth.

"For now you will have a chance at other Anathema, consider them a stone to hone your holy vengeance on."

Tyne smiled. "As you say. Where our are targets?"

"They will come to us. We have claimed their territory. For now we clear this land of any threat, ghost and Wyld."

Tyne looked a little surprised, and perhaps disappointment flashed across his face for a moment. "I had hoped…"

Deled clapped a hand to Tyne's shoulder. "Worry not, we do the Dragon's work and the Anathema will come."

Tyne nodded. "Of course."

"I will have your men set up on the west side of our camp. Speak to the quartermasters, they will provide you with the supplies you need."

"As you say Deled-sama."

The Master of the Wyld Hunt looked the soldiers over one more, then turned and walked away.

Tyne bellowed out, "Sergeants!"

Four of the soldiers, three men and a woman, stepped out of ranks and ran to stand by Tyne.

"Rafe and Olso, take the men to the camp, get them to the west and mark out the area where we will set up. Lotte, Bin, take ten men each and find the quarter masters, draw what we need for a week."

The sergeants indicated their understanding and went back to get the men moving. Tyne, satisfied that they would do what was needed set off after Deled.

* * *

Sparrow had ordered her people to set up a camp just outside of Marama's Fell. Salt wards had been placed around the area, and heaters that gave off little light were used instead of fire.

Just outside of the camp's eastern boundaries were a small set of boulders, tumbled down statues, features long since washed away by the weather. They created a small shelter, and it was into that Rappel had set up his bedroll. Confident in his abilities to detect intruders and deal with them, he did not seek the protection of wards. And at the moment he was pleased enough to be left alone.

Feet up on one of the rocks, he had a satchel open and was looking through a collection of gold and silver jewellery and small art objects. He would hold them up to the light of the stars, looking at them for a short time. Most of them he tossed to the side, into a hollow in one of the stones.

Someone was coming, not being stealthy. He looked over his shoulder, spotted the Solar woman walking towards him. He watched her close, and then take a seat on the stone with the hollow in it. She picked up one of the valuables he had tossed away. She held it up for a moment before letting it fall back. "Grave goods?"

"You can tell?"

Sparrow shook her head, "Just a guess."

"I see." He watched her, wondering if it was his imagination or if there was a hint of nervousness about her. What did she have to be nervous about? He was no threat to her.

"What do you do with them?"

"Toss them back into the Shadowland, let the ghosts deal with them." He picked a red ruby from his bag, held it up, then, after a moment, pushed it into his jacket pocket. "I keep the good stuff."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Do you steal for the thrill, or the riches, or are you looking for something?"

Rappel was not certain about the question, or if he even wanted to answer it. "What does it matter to you?"

"Greedy men are common, if I need one I will find one easy enough."

He could not help but smile at the answer, the way she had said it. "I will enjoy riches and comfort, one day, when I'm older. Now, it is enjoyable, and I hope to one day find some goal to pursue. I am better than a greedy man, but more dangerous as well."

She did not say anything for several seconds, and then, "True enough."

"What about you? How complex is all this?"

She turned her head to look at him quizzically.

"Don't play that. I've watched you, watched your battle strategies. You don't do anything simple, even if it looks like you do."

She did not reply immediately, a thoughtful look on her face, she relaxed slightly. "I, with help of course, stopped his invasion and then defeated the Mask of Winters."

"I've heard that."

"What does that make you think?"

Now it was Rappel's turn to pause and think. "It's too big. The Mask of Winters was a monster that no one really comprehended and most were afraid of. To hear he was defeated, it doesn't seem real."

"What I do here, for Whitewall, that will seem real. Achiba is a threat people can comprehend."

"That I understand." He answered immediately.

"Are you going to come with me when I leave?" Sparrow asked.

Rappel almost answered 'yes', but he managed to hold back that answer and said instead, "Probably, if only to see what this is all really about."

Sparrow seemed to be willing to accept that, because she stood and said, "Thank you."

"Just a moment." Rappel reached for his pack, pulled open some ties in his search, and then from a leather pouch drew forth a golden sword. He looked at the weapon, the gently curving blades that was almost a long knife rather than a short sword. "Take this." he said, handing it to Sparrow. He held the hilt out towards her.

Sparrow reached across and took the weapon's hilt. "Why give it to me?"

"It's orichalcium, figure you'd get some good use out of. And daiklaive's are great, but sometimes you need something short and fast. Plus I've never seen another blade that will take an edge like that one will. Sharp, short, fast, reminds me a little of you."

She took it from him, looked at it in the light of the stars. "Thank you."

He nodded then asked, "Do you really think Achiba is coming?"

"Do you really think he has another choice?" She looked away from the short sword.

"He could ignore you, focus on pulling his empire back together. You've frayed it, but not enough that it will fall apart."

Sparrow turned away from him, looking in the direction of the Shadowland, holding the blade at her side. "They say he was of an artificial race, created by the Solar's of old."

"Yeah, if you believe that."

She did not ask him if he believed it, instead she asked, "If it is true, don't you think he might have something of a problem with those that created him, then abandoned him? He is a ghost. I suspect he has issues."

"Yeah, I suppose he might."

"We'll see soon enough. Thank you for the sword." She started walking back towards the camp.

There were other questions Rappel had, about the woman, but he waited a few seconds too long, and she was too far away. He sighed and went back to sorting his treasures, wondering why he had felt the need to give the sword away.

* * *

Two days west of Vinleau, along the river, was a town called Jizen, built in a valley, around one of the rivers that fed the mighty Yanaze. Water wheels powered a small textile industry and the river waters were sifted for various valuable metals. It made Jizen wealthy for its size and well known up and down the river.

When the town denied entrance to merchants, the news spread.

People were curious as to what was happening there.

It attracted attention.

The cloaked men and women who walked along the shadowed river path, to come to stand before a recently erected gate were not the first such group. And one of the two men who stood guard called down, "No entry, go away."

The band that stood at the gate numbered thirty, and they were quiet, but for one who stepped closer and called up. "What does Jizen fear? Certainly not the outside world." It was a woman who spoke.

"Just go away," the other gate guard yelled down. "You don't want to come here."

The woman looked back and forth, then stepped forward and pushed at the gate of stone and wood with a hand clad in a red jade smash fist. The stone shifted alarmingly and the wood turned in what was once a solid foundation.

"What are you doing?" the first speaker yelled down.

"You don't know what is happening, run," the second screamed.

"Get clear," the woman said, and gave the structure another push.

The guards climbed down from the gate only a few seconds before it collapsed.

"What are you doing?" the taller of the gate guards asked as he rushed forward over broken stone. "They will kill you." He looked over his shoulder, towards the west edge of the valley, where the glow of the setting sun still blazed. "You won't have long. Run."

The woman, Shaien Teppet, flipped back her hood, revealing her smooth shorn head. "We will take our chances." She started forwards, the other cloaked figures falling in behind her.

"You're fools!" the guard, the short, fat one, yelled. "You'll all die. Nothing can protect you, gods or dragons, you'll die!"

The cloaked figures filed by him, ignoring him, but one of the larger ones paused for a moment, then smashed the man down with a single punch. "Be quiet."

They left the broken gates behind, walking along the river path. Farther in they came to a town of bridges and water wheels. Jizen was built up along both banks, solid foundations and tall buildings above them to guard against flooding. In some places bridges ran between the higher levels of buildings. It made the place look wondrous.

It was at odds with the people, who looked from windows and doorways with haunted eyes.

People called for them to turn back, to flee while they still could.

The cloaked figures paid no heed and continued along the path, towards the centre of the town.

It was nearly full dark by the time they arrived, and the central square was lit with torches. A handful of people stood there, waiting. They were unarmed and made no move to stop the newcomers. A single, tall woman stepped forward, towards Shaien Teppet. "You should not have come here."

"We go where the dragon's demand," Shaien said, shifting her cloak so it fell from her shoulders. She wore her monks robes and sandals, her only weapon the smash fists.

The tall woman shook her head. "You will meet your death here. I'm sorry."

The monk looked about, a curious look on her face, as if she was trying to spot the threat. "I appreciate that you regret our doom. Let me guess, you worship your ancestors?"

The woman sighed and nodded.

"That is the problem with ghosts, if you pay attention to them they are just going to demand more and more."

"You don't know what you are talking about."

"I'm not the one being held by ghosts and forced to turn people away, so I think I know what I am talking about."

"Enough bantering," one of the taller robed figures said. "The ghosts will come soon. We will see them exterminated."

There was a howl in the valley above.

The woman trembled.

Some of the cloaked figures pushed back hoods, or removed the cloaks entirely. Most revealed bald heads of monks. Tossing off his cloak Tyne Teppet dropped the coffin sized box and began to string his power bow. "Sure we can't kill these ghost worshipping whore sons?"

"Just the ghosts," the cloaked man who had spoken up earlier ordered.

"Ghosts only it is."

The people of Jizen began to move in-doors, closing up their houses as they hid behind the walls.

Those that stood in the central square seemed to have accepted their fate, for they waited with the monks and soldiers.

The first ghost to enter the square was ended by an arrow that tore through it, shredding its corpus.

"Ghosts," Tyne said dismissively.

There was some laughter.

A howl went up and suddenly hundreds of ghosts were swarming the square.

The tall woman looked to Shaien and yelled, "The dead outnumber the living."

"The Dragons fear no numbers," Shaien answered as she grabbed one of the ghosts and tore it in half.

* * *

Anzar walked amongst the ghosts, his daikliave wounding or ending them as it fell. Already his anima flared and where he walked frozen chunks of water destroyed anything softer than stone.

A ghost tore his cloak away, and he stood in his jade armour, an obvious target.

The ghosts that came at him fell as Anzar added to the butcher's bill.

We are your true saviours, their actions would say. Put no trust in the Anathema, only trust the Dragons.

It was not the first such threat the Wyld Hunt had sought out since it had arrived in Vinleau, and there would be more.

Anzar grabbed a ghost that had the form of a young woman, pulled her in close so he could drive this daikliave through her.

They stood nearly nose to nose, the woman's feature's fading as the ghost came undone.

He tossed the thing away and turned, cutting several more ghosts down in a single sweep of his huge sword.

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

This is what he was meant to do.

Striking down the enemies of Creation.

An enemy he had no doubts of.

* * *

Over long centuries the people of Jizen had buried their dead in tunnels carved along the top of the valley, facing the East, so that the raising sun might shine in them.

They would have been a perfect place of rest were it not for the damnable sun Typhoon, the Wink in the Storm's Eyes , had often thought.

He had rampaged about the River Province since the Mask of Winters had been ended, enjoying the simple act of murder. And he had murdered quite a few. He really had lost count, but he supposed it was easily in the three figures.

In fact he had grown bored of it.

Well, not bored, but he found it lacking.

There was no more art in it.

Had had come to Jizen to rest, and to build up an army of ghosts amongst the ancestor worshipers. He was not sure what he was going to do with that army, but for the moment making the people of Jizen live in fear intrigued him.

There was an idea in that that Typhoon was slowing allowing to grow in his mind.

Or it had been.

As he stood up in the mouth of one of the tunnels, looking down on the battle, he decided that armies were not for him. Twenty or thirty monks and they were destroying ten times their numbers in ghosts.

Really, he was no general to forge soldiers.

"What a waste of time," Typhoon said.

He heard the sound of running. A ghost, coming up the path. "Sir…" it started, then something rose up behind it and silenced it with fury of brutality.

That something was a large figure in a cloak and it stood up from what had once been a ghost.

"Well done sir," Typhoon told the newcomer. "I offer you the opportunity to turn around and walk back the way you came. I will be leaving here. Finish up destroying the ghosts and punishing the people of this town as you chose."

"I don't think so." The figure pulled his cloak away, revealing a tall, broad shouldered man, dressed in black jade armour, carrying a dire lance. "You will de ended here, this night."

Typhoon looked at the man. "You're Deled, aren't you?"

The man did not answer, but there was no one else that he could be. "I suppose you won't be walking away. A pity really. You are very good at killing."

Deled cried out and charged Typhoon with what appeared to be the abandon of anger, but Typhoon doubted it. He watched the man and the spear. He saw the tip dip, catch up some dirt from the path, and flick it up at his eyes.

He stepped to the side, the dirt missing him and the spear head only passing a handspan from his chest. However the martial artist was not finished and Deled swung out an armoured covered elbow that likely had the force behind it to shatter stone.

It never hit.

He was not there, for in a flickering movement he disappeared and appeared again a few yards away.

Deled turned towards him. "Is that all you can do, run?"

"It is surprisingly effective, don't you think?"

Deled snarled as he turned towards him, moving forward, spinning his spear around like it was a staff, the spearhead flashing in the light of far off torches and the stars.

His movement was fast, it almost took Typhoon unaware, the butt of his spear seeming the point of attack but instead Deled's foot lashed out, tracing a fine spray of water as it came very close to connecting.

Too close.

Typhoon flickered away from the attack and lifted his hands. From his robe flowed a swarm of rats, scurrying across the ground, a teeming mass of tiny claws and teeth, directed at Deled.

Deled turned, for a moment missing the swarm. Only when the first of the small bodies touched his sandalled foot did he notice. He kicked it from his foot and stomped down on the vermin, ending it.

However, that was only one, and the swarm was already on him, biting and scratching. While the Terrestrial's skin was unnaturally durable, the vast horde was making progress and there were a myriad of small wounds on Deled's body.

"They will eat you away," Typhoon said, smiling cruelly. "Like they have so many others."

Deled had taken several steps back, and had swept some of the swarm away with this spear, but it was, Typhoon found the thought amusing, like punching water.

Then the master of the Wyld Hunt leapt back, and as he landed he drew back, inhaling deeply, then leaned forward, releasing a mighty shout.

The water essence laden bellow rumbled across the ground, tearing the swarm of rats apart. When it hit the surprised Typhoon it tore at him and his clothing, knocking him to the ground, leaving him bloody, bruised and shaken, with a ringing in his ears.

He spat blood and shifted to his knees.

Deled was on top of him, his spear driving straight down at Typhoon.

"No," he said a moment before the spear plunged through this soulsteel breast plate and split his heart.

* * *

Shaien heard a sound behind her, turned in time to see Anzar cutting down a ghost that had been at her back. He did not remain for thanks as he was already turning to engage other ghosts.

The man was actually quite skilled, she thought. It was unfortunate that he seemed to have lost his heart when it came to Anathema.

Putting that thought aside she turned to find another target.

She was surprised to see there were none.

They monks and soldiers held the square.

"Report!" she called out and listened as monks called back to her. They had lost some awakened mortals, but not a single Dragon Blood had fallen.

"Hold and wait," she ordered. "They might be gathering for a counter attack."

"There will be no need for that," Deled called from beyond the light, and a few seconds later he walked from the darkness, carrying a body over his shoulder. He was marked by many wounds, but if he felt them he did not show it.

He came to stand in the centre of the square, where the light was the brightest. He tossed the body down, kicked it so it lay on its back and all could see it.

Shaien looked at a man who had probably been handsome in life, and she supposed she would have found him attractive. His body was covered in abrasions and bruises, but the hole in his chest had been the obvious cause of death.

She looked at Deled and then to the surviving villagers.

The tall woman had somehow survived and Shaien stepped up to her. With essence honeyed words she spoke, "Look at what your actions have brought? The dead should enter the cycle of reincarnation, not tarry near the lands of the living, hoping for worship. You open the door for anathema like this." She indicated the body.

The tall woman nodded.

"It must end."

"It must end," the woman agreed.

"Ask," Shaien said. "Ask us to remove the threat to your lives and souls."

"The caves, the caves of the dead must…" she made a choking sound, "…must be destroyed."

"Ask again," Shaien said, her voice louder.

"The caves of the dead must be destroyed," the tall woman said, louder, clearer.

Shaien turned to Deled. "We have been asked to help Master," she said, bowing her head low. "I beg that we give them what they ask for."

"The Dragons are always generous to those who seek their aid with humility," Deled said, and then turned towards the only man as large as he. "Tyne, the caves at the top of the ridge."

"About time," Tyne said with a laugh.

It was not righteous, that laugh, Shaien thought, but she said nothing.

Tyne put his power bow aside and reached for the coffin sized box he carried. He swung it up on his shoulder. Red and white Jade inlay on it lit up along the sides, and the box shifted, parts of it sliding away from a central core, expanding in size until on Tyne's shoulder was a cannon.

"Breathe your dragon's fire Suisopakudan!"

From the barrel of the cannon spat light the colour of fire, shot through with the white of lightning. The bolt hit the rim of the valley and there was an explosion as stone was vaporized and pulverized.

Tyne fired three more times, his anima iconic when he finally lowered the cannon. "That should do it," he said with a laugh.

Mortals stared, slacked jaw, those in the square and those who looked out from windows.

Shaien turned to the tall woman. "Rejoice, for you are on the path of the righteous. Now, call your people here and listen to the words of the master of the Wyld Hunt, Master Deled."

"Yes," the woman said with a trembling voice.

"And bring something to eat and drink," Tyne told her.

Shaien was careful not to frown.

* * *

Anzar watched it all from the edge of the square. It was of course impressive but his thoughts were on other things. Tyne and his cannon had likely been with the Teppet legions when they had attacked the Bull of the North, and yet they had still lost.

He was careful not to let those doubts show on his face.

Not in a place like this.

* * *

The stone and steel buildings of Relocation Camp 17 had sunk into the Underworld, becoming part of the Shadowland of Marma's Fell. Over the many centuries since the weight of genocide had torn a hole between Creation and the Underworld a number of ghost had claimed the prison camp as their seat of power. Few had managed to hold it very long.

Thrice Dead Achiba had taken the camp several years prior and used it as the seat of his empire.

Achiba was a huge ghost, nearly eight feet tall, thickly muscular. In him were aspects of predators like the spider and wolverine. Black chitin covered him, and his compound eyes were those of a spider.

In what had once been the office of Camp 17's commandant, Anjei Marama. Thrice Dead Achiba listened to the ghost make his report. Frightened, shaken, he spoke the forces that had obliterated Polliin's army. Achiba did not believe the ghost when it spoke of thousands of mortals, for he could not see Whitewall marshalling such numbers against him so quickly.

When the ghost spoke of golden fire, taking the shape of a griffon, he turned and grabbed the man up in a clawed hand.

"Say that again," he demanded.

"The enemy commander," the ghost said, "was surrounded by golden fire, it became a griffon of sunlight."

Achiba started at the ghost, bringing his terrified face close to his compound eyes.

He was not lying, Achiba was certain.

Releasing his hold on the ghost he turned towards his desk, and the map of the Fell upon it. "Where did the attack happen?"

Fearful, the ghost crept close, looking at the map. With a shaking hand he reached out and touched an area neat the edge of the Fell.

It was in line with the other attacks, along the boundary, making it obvious in what area he might find the attackers.

He was being baited.

Very well. He would be baited. The Solars would learn that they should have never returned to Creation.


	21. High Stakes Game

**High Stakes Game**

The Street of the Hopeful Slave was used to visitations by Florivet; one of his most successful children claimed the street. However, other demons of that level did not often set foot there. When they did it was news, for usually it meant some demon was to blessed with citizenship, or some demon was going to be destroyed.

Every now and then it was both, and even to the same demon.

The coming of Janequin generated such excitement, though it was soon clear enough she was not there to bless some demon with citizenship or destruction. She was there to see the Gate Breaker.

Heron had expected her; Ivory had sent off the invitation after all. She came around the workshop, to the shooting range where Heron was practicing. He became aware of Janequin's approach, recognizing the change in demeanour of some demons around him.

He looked over his shoulder, saw the fur and silk clad, woman shaped demon approaching. Closer to the workshop Ivory stood, watching.

Smooth, gliding stride, flash of skin through the slit in her dress with each step. The two demons who had been working on a selection of pistols moved out of the way. She stood at the table, looking down the range, then snapped up one of the weapons and fired rapidly, the cylinder clicking on empty even before the roar of the weapon faded.

She dropped the weapon onto the table where it fell with a 'clunk'. Turning towards Heron, smiling, she said, "An honour to meet you Gate Breaker." She flipped the end of her fox fur stole over her shoulder.

"Fortune's Fool." He nodded and then looked down the range, towards the tight grouping she had put into one of the targets. He lifted his plasma tongue repeater in a lazy arc and squeezed the trigger. The ball of plasma rushed from the weapon to completely obliterate the target, leaving only bits of burning debris.

She laughed.

He caused his pistol to vanish. "Golden Eyes told me that you wished to see me."

Nodding, smiling, Janequin said to him, "I wish to play cards with you."

"It would be a pleasure to play a game in the company of one so lovely."

"Clever tongued Eclipse, you know it is no simple game that I want. I demand a suitable wager."

"What are you hoping to win?" He leaned back against the table.

"When I win, the services of Golden Eyes are mine. She summons me, does what I say. I promise to make sure she won't be hurt."

"Services of a powerful sorceress. What couldn't you do with that?"

"I plan to find out."

"How long?"

"Say as soon as I win you leave Malfeas, Golden Eyes summons me come the first full moon, and stays with me until the end Calibration."

"And what would you offer if I were to win?"

"What do you want?"

Heron looked at the demons who stood near by. Janequin turned her odd coloured eyes towards the demons. The two of them quickly ran off. "Speak freely, poor luck to eavesdroppers today."

"Bring me to Ligier, as secretly as possible. And whether I win or lose, you say nothing about this request."

"Fair enough."

"You set the wager, I chose the game."

Janequin sighed loudly. "You aren't going to suggest something like Gateway are you? I did say cards."

"First War," Heron said.

Janequin smiled. "Excellent."

"If you say so. There's a pleasure house on the street, say we meet there at the next cry of the Tomescu?"

"Agreed. Until then." She stepped forward and kissed him. Heron heard Ivory call out. Then Janequin stepped back and winked at him. "See you soon Gate Breaker." She turned and walked away.

Heron watched as she paused to speak to with an angry looking Ivory, then left, moving out of his sight.

Ivory came running down to him, sliding to a stop. "You kissed her, and you bet me?" Her eyes were wide.

"I wagered your services, she does not actually get you."

She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes. "You didn't say you were goin' to bet my services."

"I was not aware that Janequin would ask for that."

"You could've asked me."

"I could have."

"If you lose Darken Gray's gonna be mad at you." She set her hands on her hips.

"I think she's going to be upset with me no matter what. She seems that kind of person."

"God."

"That kind of god."

"You can win, right?"

"I believe I will."

"What are you playin'?"

"First War."

"That's a game of luck!" She looked scandalized.

"There is a certain amount of skill required," Heron explained.

"She's all about lucky breaks, and you gave her that kind of game." Her tone was angry, somewhat petulant, and accusing.

Heron reached out and ruffled her hair (the golden headband she wore left her hair neat after he finished) and said, "I do not tell you how to summon demons Golden Eyes, trust me."

She pouted, turned on a heel, and did not quite stomp away.

Heron could not blame her, but he would be glad to let Darken Gray take care of her again.

* * *

'White Kitten' was a medium sized building near the centre of the Street of the Hopeful Slave, a Baroque construction of brass and stone. It was a brothel where demons honed the art of seduction and comfort.

The White Kitten's parlour offered tables for gaming, and a staff trained to handle such games. Heron might have taken his game to anywhere in the demon city, but instead he chose the Kitten; a present to Julline.

News of the game between the Gate Breaker and Janequin had spread, not too far through the city in the short time given, but the street was busier than usual.

In the parlour Heron and Janequin sat across from one another on opposite sides of a table made from a silver wood. The audience had gathered, sitting at the bar, or at other tables, where they could watch. A larger crowd had gathered outside, and the proprietor of the White Kitten, a gethin, had arranged for runners to deliver a commentary on the game to those outside (for a price).

At the table between the two players sat a naneke, a creature that looked like a hunched back mortal with the head of a praying mantis. Its name was Osh, and it was considered a leading expert on the game of First War and its rules. It had sworn to both Heron and to a priest of Cecelyne to truthfully present those rules with no bias.

The naneke shuffled the cards as the courtesans of the White Kitten circulated amongst the guests, offering drinks or other pleasures.

Ivory sat at the bar, watching and being entertained by various demons.

"Standard rules for First War," the naneke said, long nailed fingers skillfully riffling the cards, "minimum bet is a finger of brass." That said it put the cards on the table. Heron reached out and cut the deck. The naneke put the cards back together and dealt out ten to each player.

The first few hands went fast, small pots, each player getting a feel for the other. During that time a few serfs were asked to leave, making room for citizens of some rank.

On the sixth hand Janequin won a large pot, playing a complete Solar circle with Lunar matches.

She smiled. "Want to concede?"

"And spoil the entertainment for the spectators? Deal."

Several more hands, nothing as large, but Janequin had momentum, and she was of course very lucky. Heron was not as lucky (few could be as lucky as the demon), but he was very skilled, and he could offset some of that luck.

During a short break as the new deck of cards was brought out, he looked to where Ivory sat at the bar. Amongst the demons she looked small, even more so with her feet so high above the floor. She looked a little nervous. Heron smiled reassuringly at her, then returned his attention to the game.

They continued to play, hours passing, Heron's initial stake down by a quarter from the amount it had started. Most of the demons that filled the room were citizens; on each hand of the game there were side bets going on, the noise from outside of the building had grown.

The tone of that noise changed, a mixture of fear and surprise. Both Heron and Janequin looked towards the parlour's entrance. A few seconds later a hairless young man, with skin the colour of cocoa, entered the room. In his hands her carried a carved box of red jade and brass.

"We've gained dear Sigereth's attention," Janequin said. "Likely jealous that I got to you first."

"Or maybe he just likes a skillfully played game."

"He does, but there is less skill in our game." She smiled.

Sigereth took a position close to the table, standing almost directly behind the dealer. Heron nodded towards the box in the youth's hands before returning his focus to the game.

Two hands later, with both players betting high, Heron won, laying down a full demon run, Primordial, defining soul, expressive soul, and the souls beneath.

"Lucky," Janequin said, smiling.

Heron picked up his winning hand. "I leave the pot in place, to bind and imprison these by their true names." He put the cards aside.

The bar grew quiet for several seconds. One of the spectators even left. The naneke had his shoulders hunched up, as if afraid that someone might stick a knife in his back. "It is a valid rule," it said, "not often used, even in Creation." It trembled slightly. "Upheld."

From her side of the table Janequin stared at Heron through all of the naneke's explanation, and then said, "You whoring, whore son." Her tone was flat.

"Too soon?"

She smiled, though it had less of the easy confidence of only a minute before. "Always too soon here. Deal," she ordered the naneke.

* * *

Ivory was tired and she was bored; which at any other time would be a bad combination. At the moment she had to wait patiently.

Seated at the bar, watching the game, all she could really do was talk to some demon who was usually trying to arrange temporary freedom. They knew she could summon almost any demon in Malfeas, and there were a lot of demons who wanted out.

She gave them non-comital answers that they might take how they wanted, but in the end were nothing close to agreement.

When the bar went quiet she looked towards the game, heard the naneke's pronouncement on Heron's play. Ivory had only been half listening to the game until then, but replayed Heron's statement in her head. Then she had to stop herself from laughing.

She was not sure why Heron did it, but she could understand why the demons were upset.

"Please excuse me kind being," someone said close by, the voice deep, a subtle bassy rumble to it.

Ivory looked away from the game towards the voice. The speaker looked mortal, though he had a somewhat unfortunate simian appearance. He was tall, board in the shoulder, his fingers so thick to look clumsy. He was dressed in a suit, black, conservative, a valise tucked under his right arm, and upon his head was an incongruous bowler hat.

He was speaking to a demon who was on the stool beside Ivory. The demon, if Ivory was reading its body language correct, was surprised, possibly frightened. It slipped from the stool to make room for the newcomer.

The simian man took a seat on the stool, his feet planted firmly on the floor. He put the valise on top of the bar. He removed his hat and placed it beside the valise.

"What will you have sir?" the bartender asked.

He looked at the bartender, then at Ivory. "What is the young lady drinking if I might be so blunt as to ask?"

"Mostly poisons by now," the bartender said.

"They all think its funny," Ivory said in way of explanation.

"A very crude form of humour I should think. Might I ask for something alcoholic from Creation and two glasses of cold water."

"Right away."

"I apologize, I have not introduced myself. I am Donner Trods, Professor of History, Briarwood University of Nexus." From a suit pocket he produced a card of cream coloured paper, it looked tiny in his large hands, and held it out towards Ivory.

She took it from him, the card stock felt smooth, silky, sturdy, and the printing on it was sharp, slightly raised. It identified him, as he had said, a professor at the Briarwood university.

She kept it in her hands, politely, and said, "I am Golden Eyes, Twilight Caste of the Unconquered Sun."

Professor Trods nodded. "I am pleased to meet you young lady."

The bartender returned, placing two glasses of water and a tumbler of amber liquid in front of Professor Trods. Trods picked up one of the water glasses and handed it to Ivory. "However you are avoiding the deleterious effects of what you are being offered, a cold glass of water would still be welcome."

"Thank you," Ivory said, taking the glass.

Professor Trods smiled and looked back towards the game. "You are interested in First War?"

"I know the rules," she said, taking a sip of the water. "It's a suit building game, mostly."

The professor nodded. "Quite. It looks as if the Gate Breaker has chosen to use one of the lesser known rules."

Ivory nodded.

"Clever really."

Ivory was not sure why, so she said nothing.

Professor Trods' voice took on a lecturing quality. "In effect, by imprisoning some of the cards, the style of game changes. It allows for a certain amount of strategy and planning to enter the game, reducing the effects of random chance and increasing those of skill. It is not, however, a rule a denizen of Malfeas would normally use."

"So Janequin loses her advantage," Ivory said.

"That would of course depend on the skill of the Gate Breaker."

"No one's more skilled," Ivory said confidently.

Professor Trods picked up the tumbler and took a drink of the liquid. "A bold claim."

"I'm sure of it."

He put down the glass and smiles. "Then I look forward to watching during the time I am here. I must admit to the reasons that brought me here." He picked up his valise from the top of the bar and opened it. "The Mistress of the Forge of Night asked me to deliver this to you, as well as the request that you might offer your thoughts." From the valise he removed a sheaf of papers which he offered to Ivory.

Ivory took it from him, flipping through the pages. They were covered with skillfully drawn diagrams and neat writing. "Do you have a pen?"

"Of course he said," and took a pen from his bag.

Ivory took it, looked it over, saw it was a design with a built in ink reservoir. She turned it over in her hands for a short time, getting a feel for it, then began to make notes. She was careful, doing her best to keep her diagrams and text as neat as the original.

Sometimes Professor Trods would make a comment on the game. Ivory nodded, not really paying attention to him, other than noting the Heron was turning the game around.

The design was for a plasma tongue repeater, laid out with variations on the common theme. Ivory asked at one point why it was made out of soul steel and Professor Trods told her that when works were commissioned that Alveua worked with the materials that required.

Ivory did not believe it, at least she did not believe that it was as simple as that.

Alveua was making a plasma tongue repeater out of soul steel, and it was no simple weapon. While Ivory had never had the chance to take apart Heron's weapons (not that she had not asked) she had theories about the weapons. What Alveua was building matched those theories.

There were times when she had to hold back on her thoughts, remember that Alveua was an enemy. Still, it was nice to work with someone who could appreciate her thoughts.

"This should be enough," Ivory said, handing the notes and pen back to Professor Trods.

The man took the paper and pen in his thick fingered hands and returned them to his valise. "I have to say your confidence in the Gate Breaker was well placed."

Ivory looked towards table where Heron and Janequin sat. Heron's pile of chips was significantly larger than the demon's, and she also noted the demons in the room seemed a little less animated. They had obviously hoped that Janequin would win.

"I know he'll win," Ivory told him.

"Quite possibly," Professor Trods said as he stood. He picked up his hat, set it on his head and smiled at Ivory. "I thank you for your time young lady."

"You're welcome. Can I ask what a professor of history is doing here?"

"Teaching at a branch school of Briarwood."

"Your university has a branch school in Malfeas?"

He smiled again, showing too many teeth Ivory thought, and said, "Where ever I am there is a branch school of Briarwood. Perhaps I will have an opportunity to see to your education one day."

There was something in that innocent statement that Ivory supposed could taken in so many ways. "We will see," she replied.

He tipped his hat then turned and walked away.

Before he was even out of the room another demon had taken the seat he had vacated.

"Do you know who that was?" Ivory asked the demon, a lavender skinned neomah

The neomah turned her liquid black eyes to Ivory, she smiled. "More trouble than you want little one," she said, gently reaching out to run her fingers through Ivory's hair.

Ivory did not pull back, but gently grasped the demons hand and moved it away from her. The neomah, still smiling, did not seem concerned.

"Any specific type of trouble?"

"They consort with the great lords."

There was more to it than that, but Ivory suspected the neomah would not tell her. "Thank you," she said.

"Of course Golden Eyes. My pleasure to serve."

* * *

Heron had played such long games before, against such skilled opponents, and he had won more than he lad lost, but he had lost. He laid down a winning hand, took the small pot. He had enough of a stake to buy any hand, but he knew that Janequin would fold before her losses came close to her remaining stake.

A new hand was dealt out, Heron looked over his cards, opened with ten fingers of brass. Janequin matched and raised twenty more fingers before buying a new card.

Heron matched her raise, fanned his cards, then collapsed them. "You have been keeping track of the pot?" he asked the dealer.

The dealer started, shoulders hunched slightly. "I have Gate Breaker."

Heron nodded, fanned his cards open again to look at them.

Given time he could slowly drain Janequin's stake, win the game by slow attrition. He knew it would be boring, and it would not please the Yozi who no doubted watched. Diplomatic immunity aside, he was protected more by the fact that the rulers of hell found him interesting.

While his death would be an entertainment, it would be the last they might enjoy related to him.

So, he had to entertain them.

He considered the cost of his loss. Ivory would have to find another method to get the information they needed, and her services would be given the Janequin. He had little doubt that Janequin would bring destruction and suffering to Creation.

High, but he could accept that.

And he did not plan on losing.

"I am breaking the prison," he announced.

The nanake dealer trembled, while near by a soft, satisfied hum came from the box carried by the hairless youth, other demons expressed surprise, or confusion, and Janequin tightened the grip on her cards enough to cause them to curl slightly.

The nanake, nearly shaking, his voice uncertain, asked Janequin, "Will you ride the shattering, or concede?"

She put her cards face down on the table, then slapped the nanake hard enough to rock him back on his chair. "Of course I will ride the shattering."

Picking up her cards she smiled at Heron. "Whore son."

Heron did not answer, but turned to the cards he had put aside when he had locked them away. Carefully he chose his new hand, taking and discarding cards. "A greater demon storm," he finally said, placing the cards down on the table.

With a laugh Janequin hurled her cards to the table. "Lesser demon storm."

Heron looked at her cards, all scattered face up on the table. So close to a perfect hand, his victory razor thin.

Still smiling, Janequin flipped the table away, dropping its weight onto the nanake. A number of markers scattered through the crowd, no few of them hitting Sigereth's puppet, one clinking off the box he held.

No anger in her actions, Janequin was out of her chair and sitting astride Heron in a heartbeat. She leaned down and kissed him deeply, grinding herself against him. There was some laughter amongst the demons, and an angry cry from Ivory.

She broke the kiss. "You've won. We'll play again." She stood up, pulled the fox fur stole from around her neck and wrapped it around his. He could smell her scent upon it, the warmth of her body. "I'll make preparations. I'll send word when I am ready."

Then she left, walking from the parlour, her shoulder hitting the shoulder of Sigereth's puppet as she passed.

"Well played Gate Breaker. I was pleased to see you play again. I hope that we too will play again." Sigereth's voice came from the box.

"High praise," Heron said lazily.

The puppet turned and left, following the path that Janequin had taken.

Heron stood, reached down and pulled the table up, freeing the nanake. He pulled the demon to its feet. "Thank you for your services."

The nanake bowed its head, bobbing up and down, backing away. "Of course Gate Breaker, my honour."

Allowing the nanake to make its escape Heron bent down and picked up one of the fallen markers. He flipped it into the air, caught it, and then said, "Keep the rest as souvenirs."

A few cheers at that, though most were quickly kneeling down to gather up the fallen chips.

Heron walked over to where Ivory stood. "Come on Golden Eyes."

Ivory was frowning at him, likely upset over the kiss that Janequin had taken. He might have said something, teasingly chided a smile from her, but the game had been long.

They left the White Kitten, no one getting in their way.

When they were on the street, an area of privacy about them he asked, "Who was that big man you were talking to."

Ivory did not say anything right away, and Heron was worried that she was going to keep silent out of spite, but then she said, "I'm not sure. An Akuma at the very least, perhaps something more dangerous."

Heron considered that as they walked towards Julline's workshop.

* * *

Music

Lust to Love by the Go Gos

Loosing Lately Gambler by Corb Lund


	22. Flares in the Sky

**Flares in the Sky**

* * *

The riverboat slid close to the docks of Vinleau, sailors tossed the ropes down to workers and the boat was pulled in close.

How different, Anzar thought, from their initial welcome.

He was still mistrusted, openly hated in some respects, but the rest of the Wyld Hunt was seen as beneficial. Deled had not converted them, they were adherents to Bright Feathers first and foremost, and many still remembered Ivory well, but they were careful not to show it. And it was obvious they were recognizing that having a Wyld Hunt in residence brought with it a certain amount of safety.

He walked with Deled, towards the rebuilt inn, with them Shaien who spoke to Liam Tall, the headman.

It was talk about what had happened in Jizen, and what was happening in the general area.

The small voice that said, "The a'thema said she'd feed me to a r'ver dragon," was out of place and stopped the conversation.

Anzar looked towards the voice, recognized the boy.

Deled looked down at him. "What was that boy?"

"The a'thema, Ivory, she said she was goin' to feed me to a r'ver dragon. I hated her. She was bad."

Deled looked towards Anzar.

"The boy is named Berg Oren, he spent time with the Anathema."

"I hated her, but she always had sweets," Berg explained.

Anzar was about to suggest that Liam see the boy returned to his parents when Deled did something surprising.

He knelt down and looked at the boy. "The lies of Anathema are sweet, it is true. You recognized the evil of the creature."

"She was mean," Berg said, nodding. "You're Peleps Deled. You're the best fighter."

"That is so," Deled told him.

"You're gonna go and kill the Mask of Winters so we can go back to Thorns."

Deled frowned. "What have you heard boy?"

"An'thema couldn't ov killed him. It's a trick. Pon is gonna be a Dragon Blood and go and fight with you."

The words verged on blasphemy, depending on how one interpreted the texts, and Azar knew Deled did not believe in any interpretations but his own. He supposed that the good will that had been obtained would be lost.

But Deled surprised him again. He actually smiled and put a hand on the boy's head. "The innocent know the truth."

"I'm gonna be a Dragon Blood too," Berg told him.

"Perhaps, if not this life than the next. Tell me boy, would you like to learn the Immaculate Doctrine, to purify your soul."

Berg nodded, his head bobbing up and down in a manner that it seemed he might fall over.

Deled looked up at Shaien. "See the boy, and any other children, get lessons on the philosophy."

Shaien nodded, by the look of it barely seeming to hide her own surprise as she said, "As you say Peleps-sama."

"And have Brother Orvis teach the first lessons in the martial arts."

"I'll learn to fight?" Berg asked.

Deled nodded as he got to his feet. "Make sure you tell your brother. The faithful will always have a place at our side."

Wide eyed Berg nodded, turned, almost tripped over his feet as he ran off.

Deled continued on, long paces leaving Shaien vehind with Liam.

Anzar matched Deled's stride.

"Let the Anathema know that her lies will be undone," Deled said, smiling.

Anzar nodded. The promise of learning to fight would attract many young children, he was certain the lessons would be well attended.

* * *

She had truly not appreciated the number of ghosts that might inhabit the Shadowland, or the power that Achiba had in bringing them together. She recognized in their ranks war ghosts, effigies, packs of barghests, a squad of cabeza—gigantic skeletal horses, the brainpan opened open up to seat the rider. Several bone striders tromped along either side of the army, anchoring the lines with their presence and strength.

Behind her Sparrow heard the worried voices of her soldiers. She had shown them victory, more so than they could have hoped for, but the approaching army was something else. Thrice Dead Achiba had put together a force that must have numbered at least three thousand; a short legion.

While many of those ghosts were no more threat than a mortal, there were so many of them.

The voices speaking fearfully grew behind her, and she knew they were close to breaking. Even the core Dragon Bloods were no longer certain, and Kiyoshi's disappearance had likely not helped matters.

She looked over her shoulder at the nervous and frightened faces and noted two that showed neither. Dreaming Blue, which was not a surprise, and Calla the Wood Terrestrial, which was. She put that aside of the moment and turned to face them all.

"Listen to me," she called, and on her forehead her caste mark blazed forth.

They quieted and looked to her.

"I came here seeking those who would come with me when I left Whitewall, those who would help me strengthen my hold on the lands I claim, and help me realize a goal. Let me tell you that if you chose to follow me, this is the scale of the challenge that we will face, more often that not."

Uncertainty grew in their faces and postures, a few looked as if they were only a loud noise away from running.

"I want you to remember this moment, this feeling, and every thing that happens after, because this is what it means to serve the Solars."

She turned again to look at the approaching army, and from within the pouch at her side she drew forth one of the many flares Ivory had crafted. She twisted the priming cap, pointed it towards the army and then triggered it.

With a soft 'whoosh' and a crackle the flare shot up and out, flying over the army of ghosts. Then it burst into a field of light, the burning centre drifting down on a parachute.

Except for Dreaming Blue, none of the soldiers knew what to expect, did not know what she had planned. Sparrow had kept silent in concern for security (though she did not really think that any of the soldiers from Whitewall were spies) and for the impact it would have on both allies and enemy.

When the Razor roared over head more than one of the soldiers started, a few ran a few steps , as if about to desert.

It came in fast and low, its flight more erratic that Sparrow would have preferred. Banking sharply into an S turn, the Razor dropped slightly and Sparrow was sure that was failure on the part of the Kiyoshi's piloting. Still, he managed to level off and line up on the enemy flank setting up his attack run.

Not so long before Sparrow had watched the Razor attack a single ghost, in another Shadowland that no longer existed. Then the Razor had not been the right weapon for the fight, though it had served admirably as a delivery vehicle. This time, against an enemy with no chance of achieving air-superiority, the Razor was deadly.

The essence cannons opened up, blowing at least two of the bone striders to fragments in the initial volley. The airship continued along the enemy line, the cannons tearing through the ranks of ghost who were defenceless against the aerial assault. Sparrow saw one of the cabeza go down, likely crushing other ghosts beneath its weight.

Then the Razor reached the other end of the line, destroying another bone strider before it broke off. She watched it bank sharply, coming around for another run at the army.

About half way along the line the familiar steady rumble of the Razor's engines began to stutter, and the rate of fire from the cannons fell off. It reached the end of the army's line, winged over and then started back towards Creation.

"Was it hit?" Red asked.

Sparrow shook her head. "I think the essence of the Shadowland interferes with the Razor's reactor. It needs to reach Creation to stabilize." She started forward. "It will be back, but now it is our turn to put some ghosts down."

"All squads, take positions and advance," Blue yelled.

The orderer was passed around and they came behind Sparrow, moving at a quick jog towards the enemy line.

While the Razor had done some significant damage, the army they faced was not really diminished much. It was in a state of confusion however, and at that moment the size worked against it.

Sparrow led her forces across the rocky, icy landscape, choosing to advance up a slope towards a weak point in the line. Had communications been better the enemy army might have moved to stop them, for the path Sparrow chose was narrow and it would not have taken many to halt her advance.

She came up against the army's flank, her daiklaive sweeping back and forth, scattering ghosts as she continued forward. A bone strider, one that had survived the Razor's strafing run stomped towards her. Side stepping a sweep of its spiked club Sparrow brought her huge sword around and cut a leg from the strider.

The giant fell heavily behind her. Before it could try to get up, her soldiers swarmed over it, putting it and its pilot down.

Her force was small, but fast, and the enemy could not move quickly enough to surround them and engulf them, at least not until they managed to restore order. Sparrow kept her force moving forward, crashing through ghosts, adding to the disorder.

It was all finely balanced. If she did not move fast enough, did not keep up her aggressive drive, the larger force would engulf her soldiers and tear them apart.

Ahead of her a giant of mismatched flesh, with a six arms—three grafted to each shoulder—and two heads, stepped forward. It bellowed out commands from each of its heads, ordering the forces immediately around it to form up.

"Tight formation on your commanders," Sparrow called out as she charged forward. A ghost in heavy armour stepped in front of her. Sparrow cut it down with a single slash of her sword. Three other ghosts closed on her, but two went down, several arrows in their bodies, and the third fell, a spear through its throat.

With the way clear Sparrow approached the giant. Still calling orders it came at her. In two of her arms it carried shields, the other four arms held swords, each easily the size of her daiklaive. The weapons moved around it precisely, the shields weaving amongst them.

It was easily twice her height, and it brought the four swords down on her like a waterfall. Her sword traced out a defensive path, a trail of golden essence following the point. She knocked all four attacks away, two high, two low. Her counter attack knocked one of the shields aside, but the remaining shield slid in smoothly to block.

Four arrows, each surrounded by a nimbus of green, flashed over Sparrow's shoulder, shattering the shield, shredding the arm that had held it.

Stepping quickly into the opening Sparrow cut down, neatly severing the giant's lower leg. As it stumbled Sparrow spun the weapon in her hand, so the blade edge was pointing up. She lifted the sword, chopping up into the giant's crotch. She stepped back, raising her hands and the hilt above her head, slicing up into its abdomen.

Both of its heads howled, until an arrow silenced the right one.

She pulled her sword free, turned it again, then stabbed up at it, the tip of the blade opening it up along its sternum and then up into the bottom of the jaw of its left head.

It fell back, dark, old blood flowing sluggishly from its wounds. Sparrow pulled her daiklaive free and moved a few steps back.

It the area she had cleared she was able to take stock of the battle, and the actions of the enemy.

The confusion had ended. The giant had just been one of many commanders calling their troops to order. All around her she saw the growing cohesion of the forces.

"Defensive lines," she called out as she fell back to join her soldiers. They were moving to create shield walls, spears and heavy weapons bristling from the perimeter, while in the middle archers, sorcerers, and engineers prepared their own attacks.

Sparrow brought out another flare, lifted and fired it; repeated the action two more times. Three burning beacons were hanging over different parts of the army.

She put herself on the line, where she expected the heaviest attack to come from.

The ghosts that tried to overwhelm them fell to spears, arrows, fiery explosions, and Sparrow's daiklaive.

It was uncertain if they could stand against another such charge, they had taken losses, but it was then that the Razor returned. The flares gave it targets, and it performed it strafing runs, one of them passing close enough to Sparrow's position that she could watch ghosts torn apart by essence blasts.

Then the Razor was retreating back towards Creation.

"We're moving forward. Carry the wounded, leave the dead," she ordered, and set off at a jog over the ruined bodies of ghosts.

* * *

When he had lived Achiba had been a soldier for the Solars of old. He had seen them crush their enemies, he had been one of the tools that they had used to do so. He had not forgotten those battles, but he had not expected the Solars of this age to have access to such weapons.

The aircraft with its powerful cannons told him that he had had made a miscalculation. It's first run had sewn chaos amongst his troops, killed relays and commanders, had even wounded him, though it was hardly a scratch.

Before he could once again bring order to his command the aircraft had returned, its attacks breaking the fragile cohesion that had been growing.

Nearby a ghost turned to run.

Achiba drew his maggot caster and shot the fleeing ghost in the back. From the revolver like weapon came a maggot which hit the fleeing ghost and immediately began to devour its way into the unfortunate spirt.

It screamed, but Achiba made his voice heard over it. "Fall in or I will kill you myself."

Ghosts moved quickly to follow his orders and with at least a hundred soldiers gathered into ranks he started marching directly towards the golden flame burning amongst the darkness.

He gathered more forces as he went, ordering them into his line, keeping them close so he did not have to use relays to command them. What he lacked in finesse he would make up in brute force. That was fine

with him. Ultimately he preferred brute force.

Around him the panicked pockets of his troops were trying to pull themselves together. If only he could the take time to enforce true, complete order, but that time would allow the aircraft to return.

His strength had been turned into a weakness, and he would attack with far from the overwhelming force he wanted.

The Solar was making for a raise in the terrain, raised ground that would give whoever held it an advantage. "Run you bastards," Achiba snarled, his stride lengthening. He had to reach that height first.

Between the Solar and the raise were Achiba's barghests squad. The powerful coal black mastiffs were deadly, and their leader, a leather shrouded mortwright called the 'Hound', made for a very powerful force.

He fully expected Hound and the mastiffs to slow the Solar's forces.

He watched as the Solar broke free of her troops, charging forward. Three barghests tried to intercept the Solar, but arrows flew from the mortal's lines, driving the mastiffs back.

The Solar leapt atop a barghest, armoured boot landing heavily between the beast's shoulder blades, driving it down, then sprung forward, daiklaive blade trailing golden light, to cut down on Hound.

Hound howled in pain and anger.

Almost as one the barghests turned to look towards their screaming leader. The closest one sunk its teeth deep into the mortwright's leg.

Barghests would not follow a weak leader, and the Hound had revealed weakness to them. They turned on their one time master, ignoring all else. The Solar and the army moved through the now uncontested ground.

"Damn you to all the torture pits of the underworld," Achiba screamed and began to run, heedless of whether his soldiers could keep up, whether the run would exhaust them.

He had to get to that raise first.

Unfortunately it was not even close. He had just started up the slope when the Solar's army took up defensive positions. Arrows flying down forced him back towards his own line and the protection of the shields carried by his soldiers.

"Archers lay down suppressive fire," he called out. "Fall back to the cover at the base of the raise. Move!"

As they retreated he sought out one of his commanders, a small, wiry ghost burdened by a large backpack.

"Goren," he snapped, grabbing the man on the run.

"Yes sir," Goren said, doing his best to keep up with Achiba's long strides.

"I am going to need you to build a few things, and you are not going to have any time."

Goren simply responded with a, "Yes sir."

* * *

Sparrow stood at the top of the hill watching Achiba retreat. She knocked several arrows away with her daiklaive, then stepped back so the elevation of the hill removed her from the archers' sight lines.

Around her soldiers were setting up quick defences, those that had shields were getting them ready. The wounded had been pulled into the centre for treatment.

"He'll attack soon, he won't want to deal with another attack from the Razor. Anyone who can stand, put them on the shield line," she told the medics. "Anyone else, do what you can for them and then get ready to fight."

Close by Red and Blue were getting the other defenders organized, giving Sparrow a chance to step back and evaluate the situation. Nearby Dreaming Blue stood, looking around as well. The Sidereal's kimono was battle stained, and her hair hung about, dishevelled. She made a sweeping gesture with her sword, seeming to indicate the entire battle field. "He's making mistakes."

Sparrow nodded. "A few."

"They are out of proportion."

Again Sparrow nodded.

Dreaming Blue's eyes narrowed. "What do you know?"

Sparrow took a few steps closer to Dreaming Blue. "It's not what I know, or you know, but something Achiba knows that neither of us does." She took a step closer towards Dreaming Blue, moving into the other woman's personal space.

She frowned. "What?"

"He knows what the first age Solars were capable of, he actually saw it." She smiled and took a step back. "It makes you think, doesn't it?"

"They enemy is on the move," Red called out before Dreaming Blue might answer.

Sparrow walked to where Red stood, standing behind a shield wall. "It looks like he is splitting is forces," Red told her.

"Attacking from opposite sides."

"We won't be able to completely stop the advance."

Sparrow produced another flare and pressed it into Red's hand. "When they are halfway up the hill pop this flare, put it almost overhead."

Red looked uncertain as she took the flare. "Won't that put us very close to the fire?"

"Yes," was all Sparrow said as she turned away. "Hold your line Red. Calla," she called.

"Yes commander," Calla called.

"Take control of the archers. Hold our left flank. Not a single one of the ghosts reaches the summit."

Calla nodded. "Yes ma'am."

Sparrow walked the line, watching as the separate forces of ghosts formed up. Their numbers were growing slightly, swelled with stragglers from other units who moved towards the cohesive structure.

"Sparrow!" Blue called. "Over here."

Blue stood on another side of the hill, looking down.

As the base of the hill was what looked like a wedge; thrown together from large bones, cast off armour and other battle field detritus. It was being pushed up the hill, scoring the earth as it was forced forward.

"He must have a hell of an engineer," Blue remarked.

Sparrow nodded. "Get me a bow."

Blue was quick to respond, soon handing Sparrow a long bow and a quiver of arrows.

Sparrow fired off several arrows, the steel heads sinking deep into the wedge, but not penetrating deeply. "Well built."

"Maybe Calla can put some arrows through it."

Sparrow shook her head. "I can't waste her talents on what might be a feint. Rappel!"

"What?" he asked, seeming to appear from no where.

Sparrow was careful not to start, and suppressed her initial instinct to strike out at the man suddenly at her side. Calmly she said, "I need you to find out what is being hidden." She pointed down at the wedge.

He looked down at it, lifted his hand to his stubbled chin. "Okay."

"Get back here and let me know what we are dealing with as soon as possible." She turned and moved towards the archers.

"Achiba looks pretty desperate," Blue said to her.

"And getting more and more dangerous."

* * *

There was barely enough cover on the hill side to hide a mouse, but Rappel liked to think he knew more tricks than a mouse. He moved unseen (he hoped), down the slope, towards the strange wedge being pushed up the hill. There was a hollow along the slope, as if a river had once run down the hill. Slipping into it Rappel followed it closer to the wedge.

He waited several heartbeats, until the next heave pushed it close to where he was, then he rolled out of the hollow, up to the side the wedge.

His hand slipped into his jacket, fingers closing on the hilt of his switchklaive. The wedge was pushed forward again, close to it he could feel it dig into the ground, got a sense for the weight of the thing. He used his free hand to grab hold, feeling cold bone and steel under his fingers, jamming the toes of his boot into small cracks in the material, clinging low on the side.

As if climbing a wall, he moved along the wedge, until he was at the rear section. He pulled his switchklaive free and triggered the blade. It swung out, nearly silently, with the softest of clicks as the razor sharp blade locked into place.

Using the blade like a mirror, he angled it and looked inside.

Within the structure two jade effigies pushed the structure, each step driving the wedge forward. There was one other occupant, a small ghost, suspended in a webbing of rope, working on some boxy device suspended with him.

Rappel watched for several seconds, then slowly moved away, back the way he had come. He closed the blade of the switchklaive, then released his hold, dropping back into the hollow.

Quickly he returned to the top of the hill, being careful not to be seen.

The battle was still in the opening moves when he returned. He found Sparrow waiting for him. "What do you think?"

"Bomb," he said, "or something of similar."

Sparrow said nothing for a moment. "Blue."

"What's up commander?"

"Is there any sigh of Achiba with either of the attacks?"

Blue frowned, then shook her head. "I haven't seen him yet. I assumed he was in that." She pointed to the wedge.

"Make ready to abandon the summit on my order," Sparrow told him. "Albicore, get over here." She turned back to Rappel. "Tell Albicore everything you saw."

Rappel nodded. "You think Achiba's setting us up."

"It's a frightened move. He's afraid." She smiled.

"Which could be pretty bad for us," Rappel told her.

"We'll see."

* * *

Two commanders had been given the same order: Take the summit.

They had expected a tough fight, certainly, with all they had seen. It was they would be destroyed by the powerful mortal army, or the aircraft that had appeared to support it. However, they, like their men, understood Thrice Dead Achiba as a much greater, and a more, immediate threat.

When the enemy forces above suddenly broke formation and started retreating down the hill, towards the wedge, both were forced to improvise. One of the battle groups charged up the slope, unopposed, to take the summit. The other split the force, half going up to take the summit, the other half sweeping after the enemy.

When the two forces on the summit met, and saw they held the hill top, orders were given and the force at its full strength moved down the hill, setting off after the enemy, swelling the ranks already in pursuit.

* * *

Calla and her archers were on the rear of the retreating line. She slowed the archer's retreat and waited until the ghosts were in pursuit. "Archers, turn and fire!"

The archers moved swiftly, obeying her command as they turned to face the enemy and unload their bows. Every archer with her had awakened essence and they lent their power to each arrow they fired. The shafts hailed down upon the ghosts, felling the first line almost to a man.

The charge slowed markedly.

"Fall back, fighting retreat," Calla ordered.

* * *

Albicore reached the wedge just a few steps behind Blue and Red. The sisters were there to deal with the effigies and the wedge's engineer, which is what Albicore had tagged the ghost as being. However, the effigies did not seem interested in fighting, their attention on pushing the wedge.

The engineer did not last long, both Red and Blue finished him off, precisely, not giving him a chance to do anything to the device he was working on, nor damaging the device itself, lest they accidentally set it off.

Red pulled him free of the webbing, dropped the body to the ground. "You're up," she told Albicore.

Albicore climbed up into the webbing, looking over the heavy object suspended within. It was made mostly of jade, with a large soulfire crystal set in the slot where a hearthstone would have normally been.

The writing on the device was both in both High Realm and Old Realm, and he was certain it dated back to the Shogunate, before the Great Contagion. "How close are they?" he asked, not looking up from the device. It looked like the trigger was a timer, not yet set.

"Calla has slowed them down, we've probably got a minute before they reach us," Blue said.

"We'll need at least two minutes," he said, taking the ghost's tools so he could finish the arming process.

"I'll tell Sparrow," Red told him.

It was not long before he heard Sparrow say, "Give me the news."

"It's a force scythe, will cut down everything in about 100 yard radius. You have to hold them in that radius, get our people out of it."

"Trigger?"

"I have a timer."

"Call for a retreat, fall back behind the wedge. I want the ghosts focused on it as much as possible."

"Right away," Red replied.

Sparrow said to Albicore, "Soon as you can set the timer for a minute and a half. Give me an audible signal just before it goes."

It took him about twenty seconds to finish the work and he set the timer, activated it, and slipped from the webbing. "Hope you know what you are doing," Albicore told Sparrow.

Sparrow nodded. "Don't worry."

Albicore did not like it, but her words actually relieved him.

* * *

As her forces fell back, sweeping in behind the wedge and then down the hill, Sparrow moved to stand in front of it, counting down in her head. Her anima grew brighter as with her borrowed bow she fired off several arrows.

"Your fight is with me," she called to the ghosts, her voice echoing with essence.

There was no good sense in it, but the ghosts focused on her, their minds bent to Sparrow's desires.

They charged, funnelling towards her.

Sparrow dropped the bow and took several steps forward, her daikliave gripped in both hands.

When the wave reached her the golden blade lashed out, dropping ghosts around her, until the bodies of the fallen began to hamper the ones behind. Still, they tried to reach her, and Sparrow held them.

In her mind she counted eighty seconds since she had told Albicore to set the timer.

Her anima went iconic, the vast griffon of light appearing around her, its beak snapping out in unison with Sparrow's blade, creating the illusion that the griffon was ripping into the ghosts.

The anima in its full iconic form struck terror into the hearts of the majority of ghosts, and many tried to flee, tripping over one another in their attempt at retreat.

Ninety seconds.

Sparrow heard a chime that rose over the sound of battle.

The blade of essence was all but invisible, but the effect of its sweeping out across the battle was not. Ghosts were cut in half, some higher terrain features were similarly truncated. Sparrow stood unharmed, for her perfect defence charm protected her, the force blade failing to harm her as it swept past.

There was a crackling sound, and the blade stopped.

Within the one hundred yard radius of where the wedge rested perhaps only a handful of ghosts remained, and those only survived because they had fallen to the ground before the blade had fired off.

On her way down the hill Sparrow looked back into the wedge, saw that the two effigies had been cut in two, and the entire wedge shell had been sliced open. The projector itself was smoking, small sparks of essence popping from the casing.

Ahead of her she saw flares going up, marking targets.

She was almost finished there.

* * *

Thrice Dead Achiba watched in disbelief as the Solar tricked his troops to their doom, using the very weapon he had planned to turn on her.

It had happened so fast, and he had not had time to do anything.

It was too much, he decided. He had to retreat, deeper into the Shadowland, to the Underworld, where he would be stronger, the Solar weaker.

Facing the Solar so close to Creation had obviously been a mistake and he would be sure not to repeat it.

The Majority of his soldiers remained. He could fall back and regroup.

Something hit him from behind, and light blossomed around him.

He spun, the long chain anchored to his spine lashing out, but his attacker had moved out of range.

"My commander did not want you escaping," the man told him, smiling.

Achiba drew his maggot caster but the man said, "Are you sure you should be worried about me and not that?"

Achiba looked and saw flares burning in the sky, burning with the same colour as the light that surrounded him.

He let the maggot caster fall as he reached around, trying to get at the flare that burnt on his back. His hands brushed over the source of the strangely cold flame, but could not remove it.

He heard the roar of the aircraft's engines.

He began running, reaching around, trying to release the locks of his soul steel breast plate.

The armour had just come off, he lifted his arm to throw it away from him self just as the world around him exploded.

* * *

Sparrow watched as the Razor came in, the ship laying down fire along the path out of the Shadowland, watched as it zig zagged to keep up with the one flare that fled along the ground.

"Get them out of here," she told Blue as not far off the ground was shredded by the Razor's essence cannons.

"What about you?"

"I'll be along shortly," Sparrow told her, and walked towards where the grounded flare had last burnt.

She heard Blue call out the orders, heard the soldiers moving off. She did not look back.

Achiba, amazingly, still lived, though he was badly wounded.

He looked up at her, from a face that was part spider, with multiple eyes. Why had the Solar's of old created such a thing?

There was a sound of rattling chain and Sparrow had to take a step back to avoid the weapon that whipped out from where it was anchored to his spine. She turned, smoothly shifting her feet, the chain passing only a finger's length from her chest, then she brought her daikliave down, driving the chain to the ground. Snatching up a fallen sword, she used it to pin the chain to the dead earth of the Shadowland before turning back to Achiba.

Hate filled his features and the words he nearly spat at her. "You should have stayed away, after you let yourself be destroyed. Your time is over Solar."

"I don't need a ghost telling me my time is over. It's just beginning. Don't come back Thrice Dead Achiba," she ordered as she lifted her sword, "or next time I will have someone eat you." Her blade came down and nearly carved Achiba's body in two.


	23. The House of Green Sun

**The House of Green Sun**

* * *

The tailors and seamstresses on the Street of the Hopeful Slave were not the finest in the Demon City. That was something they aspired to, at least close enough to the best that their skill might win them citizenship. However few mortal craftsmen in Creation could ever hope of matching their works.

Heron looked at himself in the polished brass mirror as the tailor, an incongruous spider like creature, helped him into the long coat. He wore black, silk slacks, a white silk, collarless shirt (with bronze buttons and cufflinks) and a pair of highly polished shoes.

The coat, which hung down this his ankles, was made of black velvet and lined with red silk.

"To your liking sir?" the tailor asked as one of it legs ran a brush across his shoulders, while other legs made sure his long hair hung free of the coat.

"It will do."

"Perhaps if you meet someone important and they comment on the cut of the coat…"

Heron smiled as he picked up his beamkalive and slipped it into the coat. It did not ruin the lines. "I will be sure to mention your name."

"That is very kind of you sir," the tailor said, bowing low—an odd posture for a demon that tended towards the arachnoid.

Heron left the fitting room, passing through the main area of the shop, where various bits of clothing hung on strangely shaped mannequins, and out into the street.

Demons were watching him, they always watched him of course, but after beating Janequin there was a different level of curiosity to it. They wanted to know what he had won.

There were several other clothing shops in the area, and Heron made his way to one that had a more feminine air to it.

Within he found several demons, under the eye of a severe looking cat eyed, cat eared, clawed, woman like demon, attiring Ivory. They had dressed her in red silk, similar in colour to the lining of his coat. The dress's not quite knee length skirt was puffed out by black petticoats, and a black ribbon encircled Ivory high up on her waist, tied behind in a large bow. Bits of gold had been worked into the dress to match Ivory's hairband and eyes.

The cat like demon looked up as Heron came in, frowned. "I would like more time."

Ivory, who had been facing away from the door, looked over her shoulder at Heron. "Help," she said, sounding exasperated.

"Time we do not have," Heron said politely. "She looks fine."

The demon actually hissed at Heron and showed her claws.

Heron, undeterred, repeated, "She looks fine."

"Very well," the demon said with a sigh of resignation. "It will have to do." She picked up Ivory's black cloak from where it rested on the table and draped it over Ivory's shoulder. "Keep the clothing clean until you meet someone of importance, and be certain to mention my name."

"I'll think about it," Ivory told her.

Another hiss.

Ivory ignored the demons and walked over to Heron. "They dressed me like a little girl," she said, sounding disgusted.

Heron looked her over. "Not to belabour the obvious…"

"I wanted a kimono."

"Too simple," the cat demon snapped and Heron suspected that there had been voices raised over the issue.

"Let's go Golden Eyes," Heron said.

"Your purse," one of the demons said, handing Ivory a small, black bag of shiny patent leather, that matched her shoes.

Ivory took it and walked with Heron from the shop.

"Why are we dressing up?" Ivory asked.

"A sign of respect."

"Why…"

"Because we come asking favours," Heron told her.

Ivory lifted her chin in a slightly dismissive manner, causing her short hair to bounce around her shoulders, but she said nothing else about it.

Heron walked towards the landing area, currently empty but for a single, dozing unju.

Ivory had left his side to examine the wares of a nearby small stand full of brightly coloured pin wheels.

He looked up towards the sky, wondering how Janequin might come. That she was flying in seemed obvious.

Something fast moving came over the edge of the shell, speeding towards the Street of the Hopeful Slave. The green light of Ligier reflected off a polished, brass surface of the vehicle. As it came closer he could see the sweeping lines of the main fuselage, then subtle bulges at each end that held the control surface and propulsion system.

As it came in to land, coming to a hover just above the landing area, Heron could see Janequin seated the cockpit area that sat in the rear of the craft.

He supposed he had never expected the demon to be subtle.

"That's very pretty," Ivory said from, his side.

He looked down at her, saw she was holding one of the pin wheels. "As one would expect."

The vehicle put down gently, the control surfaces rotating at the last moment to become landing gear. Its engine was still humming loudly as Janequin called out, "Get in."

Heron walked towards her, nodding as he looked over the vehicle. The engine seemed to be housed in the majority of the vehicle's body, almost everything from the cockpit forward. Steel tubes ran along the side, straight up and down, vents were cut in the metal from which heat rose.

"I won it," Janequin said, meeting Heron's gaze.

"Very nice."

"What's it run on?" Ivory asked.

"No idea," Janequin told her. "Does that matter?"

Before Ivory could answer Heron picked her up and set her in the passenger seat behind the driver's bench. He then climbed in to sit beside Janequin, soft, padded leather making the seat very comfortable.

"Put on your restraint belt," Heron told Ivory as he himself pulled the strapping over his shoulders.

Janequin was very obviously not wearing her restraint belt.

She worked the floor and dashboard controls, the vehicle rose up into the air, the control surfaces shifting into flight mode. She turned the yoke sharply and pushed her foot down. The aircraft sped forward, pushing Heron back into his seat. He heard Ivory call out behind him, an inarticulate cry that might have been terror or joy, and was possibly both at the same time.

As the acceleration dropped off Heron asked, "I did ask that we enjoy some secrecy."

Janequin nodded. "I remember. Don't worry about it. This was a lucky win," she said as the vehicle dove towards one of the shells. "It's got stealth."

She flew through the narrow space between two buildings, the side bulges nearly scraping the walls. Janequin pulled a lever on the dash, then manipulated the controls, flying up and away from the shell. "No one can see us," she said.

"What about whoever made it?" Ivory asked from the back seat.

"That is the most lucky thing about this," Janequin said, smiling, "Ligier made it. He's probably going to be pissed that it was gambled away. Poor way to treat a gift right?" She looked over at Heron. "Not our problem though."

Heron nodded.

"We're on our way," the demon said, one hand on the yoke, the other across the back of the seat. She flew in wide spirals, circling shells, flying over them, below them the whole of Malfeas spread out, the vast city, with all of its buildings, full of demons.

And for all of Janequin's relaxed, lazy attitude, Heron saw her watching the area around them. He was certain she was making sure that nothing followed them.

It took time, during which they saw more of the city, vast manses that towered above skylines, and small hovels that dotted almost featureless plains. At one time they skirted the edge of Vitalisu, the forest of chimes, and then dove down to fly over the corrosive waves of Kimbery.

Finally, apparently satisfied, Janequin turned the craft towards the heart of the realm; the green sun. As she closed on the centre of Malfeas the buildings and neighbourhoods became more and more opulent, with open air, elevated ballrooms in which the residents might entertain Legier. Heron had never been to such an event, but he had heard demons speak about it.

Janequin levelled off their flight, now making for a point below the green sun. Again, Heron had heard of their destination but had never before seen the Illustrious Forge of the Green Sun.

It was easily the size of a city, crafted of black stone and brass, the high walls contained the heat of the Green Sun's workings, as well as hiding those workings from those who might try to learn his secrets. It had seven sides, and on each corner was a raised parlour, shaped like a brass lantern.

Heron did not know how Janequin chose, but she dropped down towards one of the parlours, slowing the aircraft's speed until it hovered above the edge of the wall. Smoothly powering it down let it gently come to a rest on the top of the wall. "And we are here," Janequin said loudly, and Heron realized she was not addressing him, but the occupant of the parlour.

The occupant stood and stepped from the lantern, a handsome young man with auburn hair, dressed in a long, green kilt leaving his muscled chest and abdomen bare. Heron knew it was Ligier, just as he knew Ligier was the green sun above him.

Janequin leapt from the vehicle, taking a few steps forward, bowing towards Ligier. "Prince Ligier," she said.

"You may go," he told her.

From where he still sat in the car Heron could see Janequin's shoulder's tense slightly at the dismissal, but other than that she hid it well. She bowed again, turned and walked back the way she had come. "I'll let you keep the car," she told Heron. "Just bring it back to the Street of the Hopeful Slave, I'll pick it up there." She smiled brightly at him.

Behind him Ivory was standing on the passenger seat. She took off her cloak and held it out towards Janequin. "Take this please."

"Do you think that I'm your maid?"

"No, when I get a maid she's going to be smaller than me."

"Good luck with that," Janequin said as she took the cloak from her. "Good luck, with whatever it is you are up to." She did not look back as she continued to the edge of the wall and then jumped.

Heron did not worry about her. He got out of the vehicle, then helped Ivory out.

Ligier had not moved or said anything since dismissing Janequin.

Heron bowed. Ivory curtsied.

Ligier dipped his head slightly, a small sign of recognition, and about what Heron had expected. He and Ivory were the guests here, and they were within the Green Sun's kingdom.

"Come," Ligier said, sweeping his hand to indicate the parlour, and then he proceeded them into it.

Heron followed, Ivory a few steps behind him.

It was cool within the parlour, and there was drink and food laid out on a central table. The structure was raised so that the occupants might look down on the forge, and that was immediately what Ivory did, kneeling on one of the seats, hands on the back of the chair, staring raptly down at the activity below.

Ligier smiled slightly as he himself sat.

"You entertain us all Gate Breaker," the demon said he picked up a glass from the table. "I enjoyed watching you kill those who came after you."

Heron nodded.

"Did you really expect to find what you were looking for in the libraries?"

"I fully expected that I would need to come before you to find out what I needed. You or one of equal stature."

"But you played that game of looking, waiting for that attack."

"I wanted this to be private."

"Which it would not have been had you immediately sought out an audience."

Heron nodded.

"And you brought some interesting bait with you," Ligier said, looking over at Ivory.

"Bait is not the word I would use."

Ivory turned to look at them, probably aware that she was the topic of conversation.

"What word would you use?"

"A shiny lure."

"The difference?"

"You don't 'spect a fish to eat your lure," Ivory said.

Ligier laughed softly. "True enough little Golden Eyes. So Gate Breaker, what mystery of Creation did you come here seeking?" He took a sip from his glass, his attention focused completely on Heron.

"I want to know about the Games."

Ligier's eyes widened slightly. "Are you planning to seize them from the gods?" The tone of voice suggested Ligier would find that a most pleasing answer.

"Nothing so grand. I simply want to sour them, temporarily."

Ligier tilted his head as he regarded Heron. "That is an odd request." He straightened his head. "But perhaps the gods play too ardently, and if you wish to gain an audience you would need to, as you say, sour the Games."

"And so I am here."

Ligier did not reply immediately, instead drinking from his glass, regarding both Ivory and Heron over the glass' rim. "I believe that I would like to help you. I will even ensure that news of your plan does not get out to those that would work against you. However there is a price."

"And that is?" he asked, not surprised.

"The girl."

"She's not part of the deal."

"Of course she is," Ligier told him. "She's the expert who needs to learn this."

Heron looked towards Ivory. She met his gaze and nodded. "What do you want from her?" Heron asked.

"Nothing untoward," Ligier told him, putting the glass down. "I simply want to make sure she learns everything she needs." He leaned forward smiling. "I want to let her know what Creation was like, before the gods led you in its ultimate reduction to what it is now."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Ivory said.

Heron curbed his impulse to tell Ivory to be silent.

"Do you really think so little Golden Eyes? To know all that was and will never be again? To know that you will never create anything so great? Do you not think that is very bad?"

Ivory met the Green Sun's gaze. "That'll just give me something to aim for."

Heron wondered if Ivory really believed that.

Ligier stood. "I make no claims on your soul, your body or your freedom. I simply demand you learn all I need to teach you, and I promise that it will take no more than a few minutes for the lesson."

Ivory turned to look at Heron. Heron relaxed in his seat, as if he did not have a concern, and he poured himself a glass of amber liquid. "Your decision Golden Eyes." Of course it was not, not really. He knew that Ivory would raise to the challenge, anything to earn his approval.

It should have made him feel terrible.

"Fine," Ivory said.

Ligier took a few steps away from the table, to a clear space of floor. He knelt down and beckoned towards Ivory. "Come."

Ivory, holding her chin up high, climbed down from the chair she had been on and walked to stand in front of Ligier.

Heron schooled himself to calmness as he watched, his face a mask of disinterest, the same face he wore when playing cards.

Ligier reached out and gently patted Ivory on her head.

Ivory bristled.

Ligier smiled and then reached up with his right hand to his right eye. With a simple twist of his fingers he removed his eye from its socket.

Ivory gasped.

A smile, not quite cruel, played on Ligier's face.

He reached forward with his left hand, towards Ivory'f face.

Ivory took a step back.

The glass in Heron's hand trembled slightly as he wanted to step in.

"There will be no lasting harm," Ligier told Ivory. "But I can promise it will hurt."

Ivory took a stiff step forward. "I won't cry," she said.

"That sounds like a delightful challenge little Golden Eyes."

He did not remove Ivory's eye as cleanly as he had removed his own. It took several seconds longer, and Heron could hear the wet sound of it coming free from the eye socket. Ivory did not quite cry, but a mewl of pain spilled from her mouth.

Ligier, still kneeling in front of her, his left hand bloody, laughed as he pushed his eye into Ivory's socket.

The girl gasped, almost fell, but Ligier's arm slipped around her, pulled her close, held her up. The pinwheel she had tucked into her dress' sash fell to the floor. "See it all little Golden Eyes," he said, "see Creation as it was in my right eye, see the information you came here for."

Ivory trembled in his embrace, and Ligier looked up, his single eyed gaze seeking out Heron's. He smiled, green fire dancing in the empty socket.

More than he could recall wanting anything, Heron wanted to call his pistols to his hands, to empty them into that smile. However he remained where he was, a false serenity settled on him as if nothing of importance was happening.

Minutes passed before Ivory sobbed and Ligier lowered her so she knelt on the floor. "Excellent little Golden Eyes. You were so wonderfully brave." His head dipped as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

He removed his eye from Ivory, returned Ivory's eye to her, then his own eye back in its place. He stood and pulled Ivory back to her feet. He turned her and gave her a gentle push.

Her head was bowed low, and her first few steps were uncertain, clumsy, it looked like she might fall, but then she steadied and looked up. Heron was surprised to see that her right eye seemed as healthy as the left, but her right cheek was stained in blood.

"I believe that we are done," Ligier said, then lifted his hand to lick the blood from his fingers.

"Yes," Heron said. "You have our thanks Green Sun."

"You are most welcome Gate Breaker."

"Let's go Golden Eyes." He put a hand on her shoulder.

Ivory nodded, sniffed, and then wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, smearing blood across it and more of her face. "Yeah, let's go." Even as he watched the blood flaked off, leaving her face and hand clean.

They were at the exit when Ligier called out, "If you think of a great enterprise with what you have learned little Twilight, be sure to call me. I will be happy to help you realize it." He had picked up the pinwheel from the floor and was examining it.

Ivory stopped and looked back at him. "What if I wan make somethin' to destroy you with?"

"Then even more so." He blew on the pinwheel causing it to spin.

Ivory did not answer and Heron led her clear of the parlour, back out onto the top of the wall. He helped her into the aircraft, made sure she was secure before taking his own seat. He had watched Janequin fly it and it did not take him long to get airborne, flying through the shells, back towards Street of the Hopeful slave.

"Did you learn what we needed," he asked her, not liking how cold it made him sound, but they had come so far just for that.

"I did," Ivory said, her voice clear, and she rubbed at her eye.

Heron wanted to tell her not to, but he kept quiet. It was not his place.

"Are you okay?" he asked instead.

Ivory nodded. "It hurt, a lot."

"You were very brave." He realized he echoed Ligier's words.

Ivory smiled at him after a moment. "There was so much there," she said in a more subdued tone. "Things I don't even have words for."

"You'll find them."

Ivory nodded. "I know."

Heron hoped it was true, or that Ivory at least believed it was so.

* * *

They might have kept on flying, out over the desert, back to Creation, but Heron put down at the Street of the Hopeful Slave.

"Get anything you want to take with you Golden Eyes," he told her, "I'll arrange our ride out of hell."

He said it with a sort of grimness.

Ivory climbed out of the aircraft, looked around, was a little surprised that nothing had changed. So much had happened to her, it was easy to forget nothing in Malfeas really cared.

In the small room above Julline's shop Ivory washed her face, not that she needed to; the hairband she wore had kept her clean, neat and presentable. She looked up at her reflection in the polished brass mirror. Had there been a flash of green in her right eye, or was that just a trick of the green light that suffused Malfeas?

So much in her head, so similar to when Darengest's poison had flowed through her veins, throwing open doors of knowledge. The Green Sun's light, passed into her through his eye, had opened more of those doors, had created new rooms for which doors to open, filling her mind with a flood of information. It had been like a tidal wave rolling through her head and she had often felt close to screaming.

But one of the doors flung open had shown her how to close those doors, to compartmentalize and seal that knowledge, locking it away until she might find time to use it. Almost since Heron had led her away from the parlour she had been doing that, and now she felt in control of it… mostly.

She did not know if Ligier had known that she would be able to do that.

"I sold it dearly," she told her reflection, then stripped out of the dress, down the white silk vest and bloomers.

As short a time as she had spent in Malfeas Ivory had collected no small number of things. Clothing, small pieces of arts, toys, more things that various demons had presented or sold to her.

She changed into the clothing she had come to Malfeas in and then grabbed her valise from under the bed. She would leave most of it behind, but a few things she would keep. The last thing she grabbed was that black silk sash from her dress. Darken Gray would not let her wear anything that red, but at least she would have a remembrance.

Her cloak was neatly folded on a chair by the door, her parasol leaned against the chair.

She grabbed the cloak, settled it across her shoulders and then picked up the parasol. When she left Julline's shop she opened it up and lifted it above her head, spinning it lazily.

Demons backed away from her, obviously uncomfortable in the presence of the prayer wheel. Rude or not, she wanted to leave Malfeas that way.

Heron was waiting for her at the end of the street, standing close to Florivet, the Foremost Gale docked behind them. It did not look like Julline would be accompanying them back.

That suited Ivory.

"Ready to go Golden Eyes?" Heron asked her. He was carrying his own valise, not overstuffed as Ivory's was.

"Yeah," Ivory said, folding away her parasol in respect to Florivet.

Florivet helped her up onto the ship's deck. "So, did you find what you sought Twilight child?"

Ivory looked back at him and nodded as he set her on the deck.

He barred his teeth, probably the equivalent of a smile. "And what was that?"

"Victory."

* * *

Professor Donner Trods regarded the guest he escorted. A young girl, dressed in soul steel armour, with a daiklaive larger than she across her back. In her hands she carried a large case, obviously heavy.

He had asked if she wanted help, but she had refused.

It had been most darling, he thought.

He watched as she muscled the heavy case along, often swinging it about, letting it pull her along. And somehow she managed dip and shift so that there was never a time when the large sword might catch in a doorway or any other obstruction.

To Professor Trods it was like watching a dance.

And he did so like watching young girls dance.

He had an attraction to girls that he freely admitted as being monstrous, which made him monstrous. He did not mind.

That chance would place two such girls within his grasp in only a matter of days, and yet he could not touch either, was both amazing and annoying.

At least he could enjoy watching.

He tried to strike up a conversation with her as they went, pointing out various features of the areas they passed through, but she refused to get pulled into a discussion. Donner suspected that she had identified him for the predator that he was.

He hoped if that was so it was because the girl was extremely sharp, rather than he was loosing his touch at hiding what he was.

As they closed on the Forge of Night insects began to climb about on the walls, ceiling and floors, growing thicker the farther they progressed.

"You should be careful where you place your feet," Donner told her.

"Why?" she asked in a wonderfully high voice.

"Alveua has a connection to the insects, she forged many."

The girl continued taking her steps, seeming unconcerned where her feet landed. "They're just bugs."

It was on his tongue to warn her about what happened to naughty girls who disobeyed their elders, but he left the words unsaid. He would not be able to act on such a statement after all.

They came out of the corridor into the forge. It was lit only by starlight, within the centre of the room was a vast anvil, and around it were ordered so many other tools of the forge.

Alveua stood at the anvil, looking down at the surface. The girl kept moving forward, swinging her case. Donner followed after, having to run for a few steps to catch up. He swept his bowler from his head, coughed, and then called out, "Lady Alveua, I hope we are not interrupting."

Alveua turned away from her anvil, looking towards Donner, then shifting her attention to the girl walking towards her.

Feeling the need to explain he said, "The girl, The Shoat of Mire," Donner gave the Abyssal's title, "has come with the soul steel you wanted."

"You make people into things, right?" Shoat of Mire asked as she closed on the anvil.

"Yes, I do."

"Just like soul steel, but they're still alive when you do it."

"I suppose that is so."

"Was that a person?"

"It was."

Donner came up behind her, saw that there was a tower shield of black metal laid out upon the anvil.

"Can you do it again?"

"Can you supply me a mortal to work with?"

The Shoat of Mire looked thoughtful and Donner supposed he should try to keep things on track. "Perhaps we could see the soul steel?"

"Yes," Alveua said and indicated a nearby table.

The Shoat of Mire carried the case to the table and heaved it up onto it. She produced a key from within her armour and held it up to Alveua.

The demon took the key and unlocked the case.

Donner moved closer, to see what the case contained.

Within padded compartments were bars of black metal, dull and matte, like dark iron. Alveua reached out and ran a finger along one of the bars. It moaned under her the swipe of her finger, and on the surface of the metal a hand print appeared for a moment, then faded.

"Yes, very nice," Alevua said. She looked to the other, let her hand caress it. She paused. "There are only a single ghost in each of these."

The Shoat of Mire nodded. "Those ghost ate all the others, 'sorbed them."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Alveua said, again stroking the metal. "The smith who created them must have been a master."

Shoat of Mire actually giggled at that, a sound that went right through Donner, almost making him shiver. "He's not too far from the forge anymore," the girl said, "his leg's been botherin' him."

Alveua closed the case. "You have my thanks for delivering this."

The Shoat of Mire lifted her shoulders dismissively. "Just doin' what I was told." Apparently not seeing the dismissal for what it was the girl asked, "What're you goin' to make?"

Donner did not think Alveua was going to answer, but when she looked down at her the expression on her face softened slightly. "Two children in a manner of days," and then, "I shall make a matched pair of plasma tongue repeaters with them."

"For who?" Donner asked, curious, but the Shoat of Mire piped up, "Another child?" She looked pointedly at Donner then back at Alveua. "There can't be that many children here."

Alveua put her hand upon the Shoat of Mire, pushing her across the shoulder of her armour, directing her towards one of the forge's exits. "She was red headed and golden eyed, a Twilight of the Unconquered Sun."

"Ivory!" the Shoat of Mire nearly cried. "Where is she?"

"Left Malfeas a few days earlier I believe."

"A few days ago?" The Shoat of Mire made to run off. However Alveua wrapped the fingers of her hand in the girl's hair and brought her to stop with a tug that made the Shoat of Mire cry out softly.

Donner could not recall the last time he had felt so jealous.

"Remember where you are child. Five days to cross the desert. No matter how fast you might fly you will not catch up with her."

The girl paused, pouted, and then nodded. "Okay."

Alveua released her hold on her hair. "Professor Trods, I return the Abyssal to your care. Make sure she is safe while our guest."

"Of course Lady," he said, and then, "Let's go. Is there anything you might like to see while in Malfeas?" He dared to put a hand on her back, as had Alveua. "There are many wonders here."

She took a long step forward, breaking the contact. "I'd like some candy," she said.

* * *

**Music Choices**

I'm your Demon by Scratching Post Ivory and Janequin

Devil Inside by INXS Trods

Dirty Town by Mother Mother and Evil Town by Lost Durangos for the entirety of Malfeas

House of the Raising Sun for Ligier more or less

* * *

And here is a picture on deviant which is a little like I pictured Janequin's car.

art/Secret-Agent-133431842


	24. From the First age

**From the First age**

* * *

Sparrow stood in the nearly empty audience hall, looking up at the three Syndics.

"You will take sixty-three of our defenders with you?" the one on the right said.

"And Marama's Fell is disorganized and fallen to infighting," Sparrow answered.

The Syndics did not answer immediately, and Sparrow wondered if she was going to have time roll a cigarette. Before she thought to reach into her jacket the one on the left told her, "What you say is true, and to accomplish what you have on our own would have cost us at least four the number of men."

Sparrow nodded.

"We will not stand in the way of those men and women leaving with you."

Sparrow had not expected otherwise, but she was careful not to show it.

The soft harp music of the angyalkae was the only sound that filled the room for several seconds, and sparrow wondered if the audience was over when the Syndic in the centre said, "However there is a favour we would like to ask of you."

Sparrow nodded.

"There is, in the Wyld tainted lands not far from here, a Fair Folk Lord called Lios."

"Is he a threat to the city?

"He has been before," the one of the left answered.

"He may be again," the one in the centre continued.

"Is he beyond the abilities of the other defenders of the city?"

"Not necessarily," the one on the right told her. "There is an unfortunate history between Lios and Rune."

"You don't know if Rune would kill him, and you are not sure what Rune would do if you ordered others to kill him. Let an outsider kill Lios though, and if Rune is angry it would be directed outwards."

"Yes," all three answered at once.

Sparrow thought about it for a time, the music of the demon harpist once more filling the silence. It was, she thought, nice. Perhaps she would see if Ivory could summon one.

Finally Sparrow said, "No."

"No?" the one on the left asked.

"Don't take this as me being unwilling to help Whitewall, I have grown fond of your city and its people. If you need help, I will do my best to provide it, but this is Rune's problem and I will not interfere with it. Furthermore I have no desire to kill Rune if he takes offence."

The three Syndics gave the impression of being in a huddled conversation, even as they stood motionless, facing her. Finally the three spoke as one. "We understand. Thank you for hearing us out."

Sparrow nodded. "There are benefits to a strong relationship between the Ice Tree and Whitewall. My airships will make the distance between us minor, and we can provide each other with help. Regardless of my answer to the Lios issue, I hope that we can achieve that relationship in the future."

"We agree," the one on the left said, and that was it.

Sparrow waited a few seconds, then said, "Thank you for your time and aid." She turned and walked from the audience room.

Outside the room Dreaming Blue stood, amongst the various functionaries and applicants who waited to speak with the Syndics. Several of them glanced at Sparrow with poorly hidden annoyance, likely at being made to wait.

No one seemed to be giving Dreaming Blue much attention.

"Is everything ready?" Sparrow asked her.

Dreaming Blue stared at Sparrow levelly for several seconds, then said, "Yes."

"Thank you. Let's do this."

Together the two woman walked the halls of the palace, towards the exit.

"This was all well handled," Dreaming Blue said several minutes later when they exited the building.

Sparrow was a little surprised by the compliment, but replied quickly enough with a "Thank you. I appreciate the help you provided."

Dreaming Blue frowned and then nodded. "You've delayed them, but a Death Lord is almost certain to claim the Fell, sooner or later."

"I know," Sparrow said. "The question becomes which one we want it to be."

Dreaming Blue tripped, and Sparrow put out an arm to catch her before she fell. She wondered if her words had surprised the Sidereal or it was just the low level background of clumsiness that seemed to dog the woman's steps.

"You will want the Lover then, she would be more open to negotiation," Dreaming Blue said.

"No. I don't think so."

Dreaming Blue frowned again. "Why would you want the Bishop there?"

"Because fewer people would care were we to destroy the Bishop."

"I see. And if the Shadowland still existed afterwards the Lover would be more likely to see the value in not being overly antagonistic. Assuming of course you could destroy the Bishop. The Mask of Winters, there was some luck involved in your victory."

Sparrow nodded. "Agreed. Next time I lead an army against a Death Lord it will be with overwhelming force."

"That is a somewhat disturbing statement."

"Only if you are my enemy," Sparrow said, stopping, turning so she and Dreaming Blue faced each other. "I know you are here to watch us. Feel free to tell your superiors this. Being my enemy is a bad thing."

"You are not that powerful yet," Dreaming Blue said, her tone making it a warning, not a threat.

Sparrow nodded. "But I am apparently popular with certain gods, am I not?"

"For now. Gods are fickle, don't trust on their goodwill forever."

"I don't need it forever," Sparrow said, smiling, then she turned to continue walking.

"And there are others beside," she paused, and then said, "certain anti-Solar elements in heaven who might see you destroyed. You are not ready to stand against the full force of the Underworld."

"The full force of the Underworld does not know that I am a threat worthy of that attention."

"And when they do it will be too late?"

Sparrow nodded.

"Not if your Lunar friend is successful."

That made Sparrow pause as she considered the warning. She might have spoken more, but they had arrived at their destination.

Calla waited near the steps of some government building, just sanding out of the way of any pedestrians. She was not looking towards them so Sparrow and Dreaming Blue managed to get close to her before she notice them.

"Sparrow," Calla said, lowering her head respectfully. "You wished to speak with me?"

Sparrow looked around, to make sure there was no one too close, and then said, "You've been lying to me."

Surprise coloured Calla's expression and she said, "I'm sure…"

"Save it. I watched you fight, there was more power to your charms than any Lost Egg out of the wild north should be able to call on," Sparrow told her. "Not that I did not appreciate having it on my side in the fight, but before I take you with me I will know the truth."

Calla looked between Sparrow and Dreaming Blue, then sighed. "Would you come with me? There is something I must show you."

"Where?" Dreaming Blue asked.

"Under the city. It will take us about an hour to get there."

"I can spare the time."

"It could be a trap," Dreaming Blue said.

"It could be," Sparrow admitted. "That would be bad for whoever laid it."

"There is no trap," Calla said.

Dreaming Blue's expression seemed to say, 'just what a traitor might say' but Sparrow only nodded. "Then lead on." She knew she sounded more confident than she felt, and wished for Heron's ability to read people.

"We have to go into Underton, there is an entrance to the city baths close by," Calla said as she set off, no uncertainty now that she had made her decision. Sparrow liked that.

Near by, as Calla said, was an entrance into the city baths, and Underton. The under city was Whitewall's slum, but it was a well lit and warm slum, and the people who lived their were fed and clean. Sparrow could see the sense in it; the dirty and desperate poor were both a threat to order and health. She understood why the Syndics took care of them.

The ways were brightly lit, for the first age lighting system was still extant below the city. They had been walking for several minutes when Calla paused, looked back and forth along the corridor, then touched the wall in three spots, standing up on her tip toes to reach the last.

With a click and a soft whoosh a section of the wall opened; a secret door.

"Through here," Calla said, though Sparrow felt it was obvious.

Once all three had passed through the door closed behind them. They stood at the top of a flight of stairs, the way down brightly lit.

"Does anyone else know of this?" Dreaming Blue asked as Calla started down.

"Probably," calla told her, looking back over her shoulder. "There are hidden ways within hidden ways however."

Sparrow followed down after Calla, looked back at Dreaming Blue, letting her expression say that they might as well continue.

Dreaming Blue stepped down after her.

There were more corridors at the bottom of the stairs, well lit as the public ones above. Calla led them confidently, taking turns without pausing.

"Do the city's wards extend down here?" Sparrow asked.

"And lower still," Calla told her.

They passed through another secret door, and then another one, that one opening to a complex combination that Calla traced along the wall with a glow of green essence.

The final corridor that they entered was line with heavy doors.

"What are these?" Dreaming Blue asked.

"Vaults," Calla told her.

"What's in them?"

"I don't know, I can't open them."

Sparrow looked at the doors, absent of locking mechanism. She remembered how Ivory opened the tower's door with her caste mark. Might she open the vault doors the same way?

"Sparrow?"

She looked towards Dreaming Blue, realized she had tarried and the other two had got ahead of her.

The vaults could wait for later.

She ran to catch up.

"I did not lie when I told you I exalted in the far north, and I found my way to Whitewall," Calla said as she approached the only open door in the hall.

Sparrow stepped close and looked in. The room's major feature was obvious. "That's a stasis pod," she said. It looked exactly like the one in Ivory's tower.

"Yes," Calla said.

"When did you come to Whitewall?" Dreaming Blue asked.

"Fifty years before the Usurpation," Calla said. "When Tenrae and Den'Rahin ruled here."

"Fuck," Dreaming Blue said.

"Who were they?" Sparrow asked.

Tenrae was my Mistress, Twilight of the Unconquered Sun, and Den'Rahin was her Lunar Consort a Waxing Moon." She smiled. "They were wonderful, and this city prospered under their care."

"And you came to be in stasis how?"

Calla sighed. "She brought me down here, shortly after the first assassin had been killed. She told me that she needed my help, in the city's defence. Then she locked me in the stasis chamber and when I was released," she paused, swallowed, "Tenrae was long gone." She crossed into the room, picked up a sheet of crystal. "This was all she left."

She turned and held it out towards Sparrow.

Sparrow took it, looked at it. Recalling the crystal readers from the tower she ran her fingers over it.

The clear surface began to glow, and then an image appeared in it. It was a woman, beautiful, long brown hair, nut brown skin, bright green eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, was clear, smooth.

"My dear Calla, I apologize for this. I know you want to die at my side, but you are so young still, and I have another task for you. The Viziers have moved against the Deliberative and I cannot believe they are simply insane. They must expect that we will not return, or there would be no other point to it. I am afraid dear Calla that the world will be diminished, and I am afraid that I will be sending you to that world.

"I must believe that the Solars will return, one day, and you Calla will be the help I send to those Solars. I am sorry, you deserve so much better."

The woman in the image wiped tears from her eyes.

"You will awaken when we return. Don't bother trying to find me again, that will just break your heart. Find a Solar worth serving, and do just that. Help them address the wrong that is done, that is my final charge to you Calla. I'm sorry. I love you."

The image faded.

"So much time had passed," Calla said softly.

Sparrow handed the sheet back to Calla.

"If that is true, she is a time bomb," Dreaming Blue told Sparrow. "She is a witness to what should not have witnesses."

Sparrow thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "She is."

"Leave her."

Calla said nothing, just watched.

Sparrow walked into the room and looked over the stasis chamber. "Am I worth serving?"

"You are," Calla said.

Sparrow looked at Dreaming Blue. "I can't leave her."

"Stop thinking with your heart."

Sparrow smiled. "Tactically the value of first hand intelligence concerning the First Age, not to mention her now unique training, are extremely valuable. Is that thinking with my head enough for you?"

Dreaming Blue took a deep breath. "I suppose it will have to do."

Sparrow looked over at Calla. "You are welcome to come with me."

Calla smiled. "Thank you."

* * *

Creation's sun, the golden sands Creation's deserts, somewhere south of the Delzahn Empire. The air was still, dry, punishing in its heat. Barren and terrible, but a welcome after the silver sands and green sun of Malfeas.

Heron stopped, took his hat off, and looked about the land. They were on a high dune, following the ridge, the sand under their feet solid thanks to one of the earth elementals that Ivory had summoned. He faced the sun, closed his eyes and breathed in the hot air.

After several second he put his hat back on and called out, "We'll need to find a way out of here Soon Ivory."

Ivory had moved ahead of him, her parasol a splash of colour against the sand. She turned and called back, "Soon, just over this raise." She lowered her parasol, closed it and used it to point ahead of her.

Heron ran after her, his heavier footfalls starting the hardened sand to crumble. "Just what did your elementals find that has you so excited Golden Eyes?"

She looked up at him, smiled, then opened and shielded herself with her parasol. "You'll see. It's good, I promise."

Heron looked around again, decided that no matter what, once they got over that raise they would seriously think about leaving the desert.

Several minutes later, as they reached the highest point of the dune and looked down into valley of sand, he had to admit what Ivory had found was interesting.

It was a huge ship, one meant for the ocean. It was set keel up in the sand, the sun blazing off sand scoured hull metal.

"I had the elementals clear the sand away from it," Ivory said as she started down the dune, stairs appearing in front of her.

"I should learn sorcery," Heron said, following her.

"I can teach you," Ivory said, looking back at him.

"I'll think about it," he told her, not entirely certain he liked the idea of being Ivory's student.

Ivory, apparently unaware of his thoughts skipped happily down the stairs.

When they reached the ship Heron could tell they were not the first to find it, for it had obviously been salvaged in the past. The interior was almost bare, and it appeared there had been unsuccessful attempts to break down the hull.

"It is impressive," he said, "but not terribly useful."

Ivory shook her head. "First age hull metal, so much I can do with it. I'm taking it back to the Ice Tree."

Heron looked at the ship and shook his head. "I think this might be beyond even you."

Which, Heron would admit later, was underestimating Ivory.

The earth elementals formed a ramp of sand, and Ivory walked up so she stood on the bow. Heron followed her, stepping onto the deck.

Ivory spread her hands, between them formed the golden weave of essence, the cats cradle of sorcery. She moved her hands and the web formed impossible shapes. It glowed brighter, even in the desert sun

"Come," she said, as she released the weave of essence into the air above her.

There was a soft boom as a vast form took shape above them. It was, Heron thought, looking up, nothing more than a mass of wings, and a pair of gigantic, five taloned claws.

It dropped towards them, the huge claws gripping the ship's hull, and the body coming closer, some of the wings folding over them. A moment later Heron felt the hull lurch, and it was as if his stomach dropped as the ship rose into the air.

"You are flying this to the Ice Tree?" Heron asked.

"It's called the Swift Spirit of Winged Transportation," Ivory answered, "We'll be there is two days, maybe less."

Heron took off his hat, for the body of the spirit shaded them, and laughed. "Impressive as always." Then he took a seat on the sun warmed deck. "I think we have some privacy. Tell me what you need to do?"

Ivory folded her parasol closed and knelt on the deck in front of Heron. "I need to travel to the Elemental Poles of Creation and," she frowned, "do something."

"Do something?"

She shook her head, frowning. "I don't quite know, not yet, and the words won't come."

"But they will," Heron said, careful not to make it a question.

She nodded.

Heron was about to ask if she thought she could reach the poles into the time they had, but recalled the method by which he currently travelled and remained silent.

* * *

There had been some panic when the ship, borne aloft by the spirt, had flown towards the Ice Tree. It had not lasted long as Heron had stood at the end of the bow, outside of the protective wings of the spirit, and let his anima flare up.

Ivory had the spirit lower the ship towards a section of rocky and icy ground, and deposit it gently between a V of rocks. The weight of the ship shattered ice and broke rock, and the entire ship canted to the port as the spirit, it's job done, dissipated into essence, releasing its hold.

Heron was certain the ship was going to go over on its side, and gripped wind chilled railings in preparation, but with a last crack of breaking rock, the ship stopped at about ten degrees off of true.

"Hell of a thing to bring back," some called from below.

Heron looked over the railing and saw Kiyoshi below, with him about thirty of the barbarians, as well as some people he did not recognize.

"A souvenir from our travels."

"When I was a kid my dad once brought be back a wooden sword from An-Teng," he yelled up.

"I got one of those too," Ivory said, having come up beside Heron. "It broke the first time I hit my sister Opal with it."

Kiyoshi laughed and then, with an exaggerated bow, called, "Welcome back Heron and Ivory."

"Glad to be back, toss us up a rope so we can climb down."

Soon enough they were down, and several other people had climbed up to explore the ship.

"What are you going to do with this Ivory?" Kiyoshi asked her, a wave of his mechanical hand taking in the ship.

Ivory looked back over her shoulder and said, "Not sure yet. Maybe break it down for parts, maybe build something good from it."

"Impressive, and much better than a wooden sword." Kiyoshi nodded. "Still think Sparrow bettered you."

"What'd she bring back?"

"What did," Darken Gray corrected, appearing as if by magic, which Heron supposed was likely how she had appeared.

"Sixty three soldiers, about twenty of them Dragon Bloods, the rest of them god bloods or awakened mortals."

"Explain that," Heron said.

"She went to Whitewall and killed, as much as you can, a ghost called Thrice Dead Achiba. Tossed the politics of Marama's fell into disarray and won the loyalty of all those that came with her." Kiyoshi smiled. "Figured you could have done a better job of it, but she did pretty good."

Heron did not say anything for a moment, putting everything that Kiyoshi had said into an ordered picture.

"Walk with me," Heron said, and led Kiyoshi away from the others. Ivory followed after him, and Darken Gray after her. "What do you think of Sparrow's recruits?" he asked when they had some privacy.

Kiyoshi lifted his shoulders, the soft whir of gears from his artificial arm. "They are honest enough. Some of them might leave when pushed. Don't think any of them are plants."

"Let's go talk to Sparrow."

"Not you," he heard Darken Gray say.

"But I got to…" Ivory started.

"I am certain that you will be called for if you are needed."

Heron did not linger to listen to Ivory trying to argue with Darken Gray. He did not think he would have argued so with Darken Gray had he been Ivory.

"Give me the high points of immediate threats," Heron told Kiyoshi.

"The League is sniffing around, and we think we might have some fair folk out to the East."

"That's it?"

Kiyoshi looked thoughtful. "That's all I know of. Weird, right?"

"Somewhat unexpected."

They found Sparrow in one of the Ice Tree's smaller meeting rooms. With her were a set of twins, identical but for their hair colour.

Sparrow obviously had expected him. She smiled. "I am glad you're back."

"I understand you have done some recruiting."

Sparrow nodded, then looked at the women with her. "These are Red and Blue. Red, Blue, Heron Jade Eyes."

The two Terrestrials regarded Heron levelly.

He wondered if it was jealousy he was seeing, or perhaps protectiveness. If Sparrow was aware of it she ignored it. "Heron and I need to talk. Kiyoshi, go with them."

It was not, Heron thought, a subtle dismissal, but no one argued with her.

As soon as they were alone in the meeting room Sparrow asked, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"We did. Ivory believes she has a plan."

"What is it?"

"It requires her travelling some distance and doing something. Apparently she can't explain it well. Lack of words."

"Lack of words?"

Heron was quiet for a few seconds, then he said, "She learned things, from one of the more powerful of the demons. She has understanding of those things, but cannot explain them, yet."

"How does that even work?" Sparrow tilted her head to the side.

"Some of what she learned no longer exists. Could you explain what blue is to someone born blind?"

Sparrow nodded after a moment. "Good point."

"Have you heard anything from Lightning?"

Sparrow shook her head. "I'm taking it as a good sign."

"Let's hope. What about Dreaming Blue?"

"Returned to Heaven. I expect that she will be back soon, seeing as we are all here."

"We'll take advantage of her absence. Kiyoshi said we are secure."

"Secure? That's an interesting way to put it." She removed a pouch of marijuana from her jacket pocket, some rolling papers from another. "There was a Wyld Hunt that looked as if it was pointed right at us, but it suddenly turned east. It's led by Deled Peleps apparently."

"Where is your intelligence coming from?"

"Darken Gray, through something that works for Hu."

"Something that works for Hu?"

"He's a god of things in shadows, Dreaming Blue said it was something that hid under beds."

Heron laughed.

Sparrow smiled. "It was strange. But that is the last I heard about Deled, so I assume he kept going East, if we are lucky he went right into the Wyld and kept going."

"We're not going to get that lucky. And I want to know what attracted his attention."

"So we ask Hu or Darken Gray."

"Darken Gray is here, and likely Hu will show up soon."

* * *

The design offices were much like Ivory remembered, large, open space, full of tables, covered in plans. She had given Darken Gray the slip, she hoped, shortly after Hu had found her. Supposing she did not have too long before her governess tracked her down, Ivory had come to the offices to see if anything interesting was happening. And if there was not, then she wanted to get a start on making something interesting happen. She thought she might try building her own version of Janequin's flying vehicle.

She expected to find Tar there, running things. Tar was in fact there, but Ivory did not think that he was in charge of things, not like he used to be. A quick look around gave her a read on the room, led her to conclude that a man she had never seen before had taken the position of leadership.

She had heard Sparrow had brought a number of Dragon Bloods and others from Whitewall. She supposed that the old man must be one of those.

Best to let him know who was in change. "Come on Hu," she said softly.

Head held up she walked into the room, looking about, as if she were inspecting the place. She had watched her mother inspecting parts of the household and—while keeping in mind her youth and lack of height made certain affectations beyond her—did her best to mirror it.

One of the engineers noticed her, and she was pleased to see a nervous look cross his face. She hoped it was not just because of the huge tiger at her side.

Tar noticed her before the old Dragon Blood did, but when Tar straightened the old man looked towards Ivory. He had grey, thick hair, sticking up around his head like a mane, and his eyes, like cut sapphires, suggested his caste. He nodded politely to her and said, "Peleps-san."

Ivory stopped, dipped her head, not as low as he had, and said, "You have me at a disadvantage." She was certain that Darken Gray could not fault her.

"Cynis Albicore, chief engineer."

Ivory was careful to keep her voice even as she said, "I believe that I am the chief engineer here." She had never really thought about titles before, but if anyone deserved that title it was she!

"As I understand it your position here is more educational, an allowance by your caretaker."

Was he picking a fight with her?

She looked to where Hu stood beside her, then back at Albicore. Part of her wanted to scream at Albicore, call him every dirty thing she had heard said about house Cynis. However, she knew that Darken Gray would hear about it, which meant it would also be passed onto her mother. So instead she replied with, "That may be true, but I think I'm the one who can fix all those first age ships." She waved out with her hand, in the general direction where the hulls in question rested.

He did not seem upset at what she said, in fact he even smiled at her. "No one doubts your skills, in fact I hope that I might learn some things from you. However," and the smile did not fade, "that brilliance, combined with your youth, is

something of a problem."

"What do you mean?" Ivory demanded.

"You get too clever, putting together processes that are ingenious, but take too much time. You double the construction time for a five or ten percent increase in functionality."

Ivory frowned, but did not say anything immediately. She supposed, reflecting back on some of what she had done, that he might have a point.

Which was infuriating.

He should have been wrong.

There were so many things she wanted to say, so many angry insults she wanted to hurl at the man. She wanted to flip over tables, she was sure she could do it, or at least Hu could. The trouble she would be in for such behaviour paled to what she was feeling at that moment.

But even as she felt herself begin to tremble as she fought for control, a thought swam lazily through her mind. It was not a noble thought, and really, no more mature than her earlier desires that had almost led her to a tantrum.

Had he ever leapt from a bridge, holding Janequin's hand? Had he ever stood in the Forge of Night and offered advice to its mistress? Had Ligier ever flooded his mind with lost knowledge.

The trembling ceased. Her lips twisted up into a smile. "That's fine," she said. "When you need me send word to Darken Gray."

Albicore looked surprised and Ivory was certain he had wanted the angry outburst.

Score a point for her, she thought.

She was leaving with Tar called out, "Hold it, there is something we need."

Ivory paused and looked over at him. "There is?" she asked innocently.

Tar looked from her to Albicore, sighed and said, "We are having an issue with the engine of the cargo ship. There was some damage done during a test flight."

Ivory saw Albicore frown for a moment, but he said, "The port engine's essence feed system has been damaged. We have been asked to get it working as soon as possible."

Ivory met Albicore's gaze for a few seconds, almost certain she understood what he had planned, had she given into her anger. He could have offered to let her look at the system, so graciously offering her a chance to prove herself.

Old bastard.

"If you want I will take a look at it," she told him.

"Thank you," he said, his tone civil enough.

They showed her the unit, sitting in several pieces on one of the work benches.

She grabbed a chair, dragged it close, and then stood up on it.

Leaning over the table she began to pick up the smaller pieces, looking them over. The larger ones she shifted about to get so she could examine them.

"Some parts wore out, bit of bad luck really." She picked up a sealant ring, the size of her palm, a mixture of jade an orichalcium. It was cracked, it looked like an attempt had been made to weld the crack as some point.

"I bet they would have had to try to get replacement parts." She ran her fingers over the metal, repairing the break and refinishing it, making it like new.

The essence compressor was a heavy chamber, and Ivory needed some help to get it standing up. She pushed the ring into the propellant valve, giving it a twist to lock it in place.

"Essence inverter needs the reaction chamber resurfaced." She had picked the cylindrical component and was looking into it. "I need a bit of white jade."

Someone handed her a small block of the material.

She ran it along the interior, resurfacing it with her bare hands. The metal took on a mirror like shine in her hands and in the distorted reflection she saw Albicore's frown.

It did not take her long to rebuild and repair the essence feed. She put the last part in place, a compressor she had rebuilt from fractured pieces, giving it a turn to set it in. "There."

The engineers and mechanics in the room had all gathered to watch, all were obviously amazed.

Ivory climbed down from the table, brushed her hands off. "Carry on chief engineer," she told Albicore.

Albicore nodded. "Of course," he said, tone even.

Ivory nodded politely and then walked towards the exit, Hu beside her.

Behind her she heard the discussion about how they would get the feed system back into the ship, and the other repairs they would need to complete. It sounded more dull than she would have expected, and she was happy to close the door behind her.

Darken Gray was waiting out in the hall.

"Hi," Ivory said lightly.

"You could have handled that better."

Ivory began walking down the hallway. "I don't see how."

Falling in beside her Darken Gray said, "By not being so smug about it. You may have made an enemy."

"I don't care," Ivory said. "He thought he could play with me, make me do what he wanted." She stopped and looked up at Darken Gray. "I'm a twilight, and he thought he could use me." She stomped her foot. "He was treating me like an idiot."

"He was treating you like a child."

Ivory started walking again. "Then he was treatin' me like a particularly stupid child. Did he think I was gonna cry and then brighten up when he told me he'd let me fix something?"

"It would not have been out of the question."

With an audible harumph Ivory quickened her pace and said softly, "Well not for him."

They reached the elevator and Darken Gray pressed the call button. "You may make it difficult to work together."

"Don't care."

"Ivory…"

"Don't care," Ivory said with more force. "Let him handle gettin' airboats put out and doin' simple repairs on the first age stuff. I've projects of my own."

The elevator doors slid open. Ivory stepped in, Hu at her side, quiet. Darken Gray watched Ivory for a moment, then stepped in. "What about Sparrow?"

"Sparrow's got more 'wakened mechanics now. Sparrow made him chief engineer."

"I suppose that is true," Darken Gray said, and as the doors closed she asked, "And what do you plan to do instead?"

"Build things I want."

"In between your other lessons."

Ivory sighed and nodded.

* * *

"Where's Ivory?" Heron asked.

"Asleep," Darken Gray told him.

"Why didn't you bring her?" Sparrow asked her.

"Because I am not ready for her to learn what you are asking."

They had gathered in Sparrow's office, just the three of them at Sparrow's invitation.

"And what are we learning?"

"Peleps Deled has taken his Wyld Hunt to Vinleau."

Heron stood. "Vinleau?"

"What is important about Vinleau?" Sparrow asked.

"Ivory's friends," Darken Gray answered.

"It is the village where Ivory was living, until Anzar found her. If I had to guess I would say that Deled is hoping to bait Ivory," Heron explained.

Sparrow nodded. "So when he realizes that we are not going to take the bait he will be on his way here."

Heron frowned. "Who said we were not going to take the bait?"

"Well, we're not. We let him come here where we are prepared."

Heron returned to his seat. "Do you know what he is doing in Vinleau?"

"He is cleaning up messes, to put it simply. Rogue fair folk, ghosts, a troublesome group of beastmen. He is avoiding direct conflict with the gods, spirits and fair folk of Great Forks. And he is not bringing any harm to the people of Vinleau."

"Sounds like we leave him," Sparrow said.

"I don't think so," Heron told her.

"Why?"

"Simple reason is that he might start harming the people of Vinleau, and when Ivory learned about that she would be upset. Upset far out of proportion, which we do not want. The complex reason is, well, more complex."

"Explain," Sparrow stated.

Heron leaned back in his seat. "He is making a statement. I don't know if it is by accident or he has planned it out. I suspect he has planned it, I don't think he is stupid. Fanatical and prone to making mistakes because of that, maybe, but not stupid.

"It is a statement. He is there. He has control. He is a force of good. And Ivory is not there. Ivory is not protecting people she has claimed as friends."

"Ivory is a child. Her friends are children."

"She is a Twilight, a Solar," Darken Gray said to Sparrow. "It's different."

"People, gods, are watching," Heron said. "Where has Deled been, before he want to Vinleau? Do you know?"

"Lookshy, the Marukan Alliance, where Thorns was. He followed much of your path."

"All our possible allies. Deled sits in Vinleau and they want to know what we are going to do."

"And if we do nothing?"

Heron looked at Sparrow. "What would you think of us, from the outside, if we did nothing. If we made Deled come to us, no matter what he might do at Vinleau?"

Sparrow did not answer immediately. "Hard to say, but I see your point, though I don't agree. You want to go to Vinleau, scrape Deled out of there."

He nodded and smiled.

"If we do so, you don't get to kill Deled," Sparrow told him.

"Pardon?"

"You do not face him. I will take care of him."

Heron frowned. "Why?"

"Because for you it will be justice. When I kill him, it is just me removing one more threat to Creation."

It was Heron's turn to think silently before he said, "That's your condition for helping?"

"That's my condition for leading this strike."

Heron smiled. "When words no longer suffice, let the Dawn lead."

"Damn right," she said. "We do this, we do it clean, fast, and leave no doubt."

"When do you want me to tell Ivory?" Darken Gray asked.

"Tomorrow will be soon enough. We can start planning then," Sparrow said.

* * *

Earlier the wind had blown up from the South, carrying the warmth of the summer season, but as the sun had set the wind had swung around, bringing in colder air from the far off pole of air. Summer was short in the North, and the cold was never too far off.

Sparrow did not mind it, for the deck of an airship at altitude was always cold. As she stood upon one of the Ice Trees spars, watching the red of the sunset fade into the dark blue that heralded the black of night, she let herself imagine for a time she once more was just a simple airship captain.

It did not fit well, she thought, for the Unconquered Sun's power had quickened desires in her, opened up vistas of possibility. Such a life would no longer be enough.

It was time to step forward into that, confidently. Gathering her small army had been the first step. Her next step would be to directly challenge the Immaculate Order; to confront a Wyld Hunt and destroy it.

It was full dark when the hatch at the end of the spar opened and another joined her.

There was enough light for her to see it was Heron, but even if all had been in shadow Sparrow thought she would have recognized him by the way he moved, the sound of his footsteps.

He stopped a few paces away from her. "Nice view."

Sparrow nodded, turned away from him to look up at the stars. "It's quiet here."

"How confident are you in your people?"

Sparrow did not answer immediately. "How confident are you about Kiyoshi?"

Heron laughed. "Kiyoshi is a self aggrandizing bastard. I know exactly what he will do." His voice grew more sombre when he said, "Your people are decent, for the most part."

She moved a little closer to Heron, catching his scent, seeing the neat lines of his clothing. He did not look like someone who had just returned from hell. "Fighting ghosts is easy, fighting mortals and Terrestrials of a Wyld Hunt will be different."

Heron was watching her. He nodded. "Yes."

"I know," she told him, her own gaze meeting his. "And I worry about that, but I will take my chance. Victory is addictive, a clean win will bind them tighter to me."

"The odds seem a little long."

"Says the gambler." It made her happy to say, an easy joke between friends.

"I would fold if I had a hand like that."

"You're lying, but what if the pot was huge?"

He did not answer immediately, then said, "It would depend on how much I was willing to lose, and if I saw a way that loosing could let me win later."

Sparrow laughed. "Such a careful answer." She took a step closer. "I'm not like you. I can't just make people love me, want to follow me. I have to do it my way."

Heron nodded.

"And you'll help me."

Again he nodded.

Feeling the breath catch in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest, she reached out and took his hand. His skin was soft, but for the precise callouses from his weapons, and his hand was warm in hers. "Then how can we fail?"

"How indeed?"

She moved a little closer. "I suppose there are millions of ways. But we can deal with them." They had been too long apart, something she only realized when he had come back.

Sparrow went onto her toes and kissed him, her fingers curling to trap the material of his jacket so she could pull him closer. He was wonderfully gentle, kissing her back, but gently, passively, allowing her to direct things. She did not think much on the nature of their attraction, of what they might have been, but the moment, of his lips and the warmth of his body.

Carefully, she pulled herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist. His hands slid down her back, and under her bottom. They kissed, harder, and more passionately, Heron, still gentle, but not longer just letting her direct things.

She felt herself grow warm and wet, and she wanted more.

Leaning back, her weight drew Heron down, he lowered her gently to the cold surface of the spar. She reversed the positions, flipping over, so he was on his back below her.

Shedding her jacket she leaned down and kissed him. His hands pulled her blouse from her pants, then slid up, under, along her bare skin, to caress her breasts.

Sparrow moaned softly as she reached for his belt, pulling it loose. She wanted him and she was going to have him that night. And he was going to have her.

* * *

Music

Sparrow Too Late to be Good by the Tuesday Girls

Sparrow and Heron Funeral for a Good Girl by Biff Naked


	25. Projecting Force

**Projecting Force**

* * *

"Ivory, Peleps Deled has gone to Vinleau," Darken Gray told her.

Ivory, in the middle of breakfast, let the chopsticks she was holding fall. They clattered softly on the china plate as she said, "What?"

"'Pardon', say 'pardon me'," Darken Gray told her, "and it is the same Vinleau you sheltered in. And he has gone there with the goal of bringing you to him. He has not hurt anyone yet, but he has started teaching to those that will listen. Captain Sparrow and Heron are aware and will make plans."

Ivory did not say anything for a few seconds as she processed the information. "I am going to Vinleau."

"Perhaps," Darken Gray answered. "But not by yourself, and Hu," she turned to look at the tiger, "will not be helping you run off to your death if he knows what is good for him."

Hu dipped his head.

"Traitor," Ivory said to Hu, pouting, no real anger in her tone.

"Yes, your steadfast protector of all these months is a traitor for not letting you get yourself killed," Darken Gray told her. "You have much to learn if you want to lead people."

"I was jokin`," she said softly. "Hu knows."

"Likely, but others may not. I have told you this so you can prepare. If Sparrow and Heron chose to act they will need information. You should be able to put such intelligence together."

Darken Gray produced a thin valise which she put on the table. "This comes from various sources in Yu-Shan, gods who have taken an interest. Read though it and prepare complete reports for Captain Sparrow so she is ready if a strike is required."

Ivory stood up and walked around the table to pick up the valise. She nodded. "I understand."

"Good, now finish your breakfast and then get to work."

* * *

The earth manse beneath the Ice Tree was a fortress, though more an emergency shelter than a military command post. It still offered a tactical room. Sparrow had not thought to use it before. She had ordered or asked her senior staff to meet here there in the evening.

While the previous night was still fresh in her mind, she had to put pleasing thoughts such as that aside. Once they finished up with Deled and his Wyld Hunt she would have many opportunities to deepen her relationship with Heron.

Of course she might have something of a rival for his attentions. She watched as Ivory ran up to Heron, grabbed his hand, and start leading him to the centre of the room. "I just got the map system tuned," she told him, "come and see it."

Ridiculous for her to be jealous of a child, but there it was.

Sparrow looked over to where Darken Gray sat at the edge of the room. She would have liked a little help from the Governess, but apparently Ivory's behaviour was not a problem as far as the goddess of corporal punishment was concerned.

She watched as Ivory showed Heron the map, light bent by essence forming a representation of the Ice Tree and the land around it. Ivory did have reason to be proud, and Sparrow understood why she wanted to show off. That did not mean she as happy at the girl's attempt to monopolize Heron.

Kiyoshi, Red and Blue were already there when Sparrow had arrived, and Calla had arrived not long after her. While she had been watching Ivory and Heron Rappel had arrived.

"Let's begin," Sparrow said, deciding Albicore could catch up when he showed up. She walked over to where Ivory and Heron stood and skillfully put herself between them, placing a hand gently on Ivory's shoulder, directing her towards the controls. "Please show me how this is used."

Ivory might have been displeased to be separated from Heron, but she would not pass up the chance to show him and Sparrow how smart she was.

"The main controls are here," she said, putting her hand on a concave section of the table, and three trackballs within. "You can rotate the image on all three axis, and over here you can use this wheel to zoom in and out." Ivory demonstrated as she spoke, casing the image to spin about and pulling in on an area near the base of the tower.

"How does it work?" Sparrow asked.

Albicore came into the room, but Sparrow did not acknowledge him.

"It's tied into the air manse," Ivory said, beginning to talk a littler faster. "All the flowin' air gets read by the manse, and what it passed over is projected down here."

"So it won't show us anywhere the air does not flow," Sparrow said, leaning forward. "Underground, in enclosed areas or any deep hole."

"Yeah."

"What is the range?"

"'bout ten miles, but it'll probably detect aircraft out to twenty."

That would give them a significant amount of time to react to anything but fast moving first age craft.

"It can show Vinleau?"

Ivory nodded. "Not real time, but I put the map in." She touched the controls and a new image appeared, of a village on the banks of a wide river.

"Alright." Sparrow moved to the controls, displacing Ivory. She looked around the people in the room, nodding at Albicore. "Let's begin." She spun the trackballs and the wheel, until a large section of the lands around Great Forks, including Vinleau, were displayed. "We have Deled and his Wyld Hunt occupying the village of Vinleau. This is the immediate lands around him. None of the organizations in this area are a threat to us, as long as we keep our attack clean.

"We do not want to fight in Vinleau, and from what I have been able to discern Deled may want to avoid that as well."

She spun the controls and zoomed in on Vinleau. "Our intelligence puts the majority of his forces outside of Vinleau proper, to the West along the river. That would be what he would expect us to hit, and I am pretty certain he is getting ready for an attack. I also think he is more than willing to fall back into Vinleau, or even start the fight there if we moved into the village. He thinks he can win either way."

"So what do we do?" Blue asked.

"We pull him out, and then we destroy him. He dies. Most of those following him die."

She watched them, wondering what they thought about that. It was as Heron had said; she was asking them to kill people, the majority guilty of nothing more than having to follow Deled.

It likely did not sit well with them, except for Kiyoshi, but no one objected.

"How are we going to do that?" Red asked.

Sparrow looked over at her new chief engineer. "Albicore, has my cargo ship been repaired yet?"

"Almost Sparrow, the techs are just running some tests on it."

"What's your opinion on the craft's use in battle?"

"It's heavy and tough, but slow. Lots of power."

"Ivory, what will it take to toughen that bird up even more?"

Ivory did not think about it for too long before answering, "Not a lot. Some armour in a few key places and work in some redun'ancy."

"Weapons?"

She shook her head. "Can put some siege weapons on the doors for gunners, but's not much else."

Sparrow had hoped for a better answer, but had not expected one. "Good enough. Albicore, give Ivory everything she needs to get that ship ready by tomorrow. Kiyoshi," she shifted her gaze to him, "I want you to fly it."

"And do what?"

"Combat drops. Red and Blue will be putting together a team."

"We will?" Blue asked.

Sparrow nodded. "Heavy hitters, fast. Kiyoshi will drop you off where the enemy is the weakest and you will tear into them. When they start reacting to your action Kiyoshi picks you up and drops you off at the newest weak point. Repeat until we win."

"So our team needs to be ready for tomorrow as well?" Red asked.

"Exactly. We don't have much time."

"What do you want me to do?" Rappel asked.

"Are you up to operating behind enemy lines?"

He nodded.

"We need to keep tight control on what happens in Vinleau if we don't want this going sour on us."

Sparrow continued on. "Calla, do you think you can put together a force of mobile archers?"

The wood aspect did not answer immediately. After a few seconds she said, "If your barbarians will follow me, and I'll need mounts."

"They will and you will have them."

Sparrow turned back to the map. "Heron will be leading you," she told Calla, "and I will engage Deled." The map shifted as her hands manipulated the controls. "Any battle plan we come up with be probably fall apart as soon as we see what we are really up against, but here are the generalities that we will be working with."

* * *

Dreaming Blue had put most of her work in order, the work that had been building up while she had been helping Sparrow. She signed off on a few reports, cancelled a proposed operation and declined several invitations from various gods who hoped to curry favour with her or the Solars they believed she 'represented'.

She was not so engrossed in her work that she missed a small chime ringing from one of the shelves. Standing, careful not to knock anything from her desk, she called out, "Enter," when someone knocked at her door.

The door opened admitting Chejop Kejak.

She bowed respectfully towards the man, considering that in the last few months she had seen more of the man than she had in the ten years prior.

He looked tired, she thought, and old.

"Good day Dreaming Blue." He stood straight, holding his starmetal wrack staff easily.

"Kejak-sama, please, have a seat." She indicated the seat in front of her desk with the sweep of her hand, twitching the sleeve of her kimono out of the way at the last moment to avoid knocking some papers from the desk.

"Thank you." He crossed the room smoothly and took the offered seat, setting his staff leaning against the back of the chair.

Dreaming Blue wondered if he carried the weapon as a message to her, or if it was indicative of his activities these days.

"I have heard that Heron Jade eyes and the Peleps child have returned from Malfeas," he told her.

Dreaming Blue simply nodded and waited.

"You have not heard?"

"No. I have avoided the Ice Tree. It is busy there and I've already got caught up in Sparrow's activities enough."

Chejop regarded her for several seconds before saying, "You still have not told me why they went to Malfeas."

"That is because I do not know."

Chejop was silent again, the seconds passing with neither speaking. He broke the silence by saying, "You have Orrery."

"I do," she answered.

"How did you get it?" His tone was even, civil really.

"The Pelep's girl just gave it to me. Apparently she had grown bored of it. Children are like that."

"I have trouble believing that."

For a moment Dreaming Blue as about to suggest he should watch some children, but she knew that he would not appreciate the flip answer. Instead she said, "I suppose I am no longer trustworthy."

"I wanted proof that they were enemies of Creation. What they did in Malfeas likely would have proved that."

"Unlikely."

"Would you care to expand upon that." He leaned forward slightly, the simple movement rich in menace.

She did not let it get to her, instead she calmly told him, "Heron Jade Eyes would not deal with demons in anyway that might harm Creation."

"You sound sure of that."

"I am."

He shifted back, the threat in the air diminishing. "And the Peleps child?"

"Oh, she very well might, but not with Heron watching her, not while she is pathetically in love with him."

"You are not taking this seriously enough," he warned.

"I believe that I am Kejak-sama."

"Creation is at risk." His voiced grew louder, flatter. She supposed it might have hinted at suppressed anger.

She hoped not. However, she thought what she was going to say might bring that anger to the fore.

"Not from my Solars."

He did not answer that, though she was certain it was on his lips to.

Before he could she took the orrery from within her kimono and triggered it. Within seconds it had expanded out into a star field. "Sleeper, lend me some of the Loom's power," she said.

The star field changed and grew, flickering as it danced and shifted.

"Multiple areas of possible Fate Cascade," she said. "At least two future singularities in danger of forming. Activity on all fronts." She looked at him through the stars. "And none of it is centred around the Ice Tree."

Chejop was examining the orrery's star field, likely memorizing it. "For the moment that is true."

"And I am watching to make sure it does not change."

"You had better." She thought he was going to say more, but instead he stood. "You will excuse me."

Dreaming Blue let the orrery collapse back into its casing. "Of course." She stood and bowed.

Chejop acknowledged her with a slight dip of his chin, then walked from the office.

Dreaming Blue took her seat again. It was unfortunate, she thought, that he no longer completely trusted her. She valued the relationship she and he had shared, but at the same time…

Shaking her head clear of such thoughts she turned her attention to the last of her paperwork.

A few moments later the warning chime sounded again. She looked up a moment before the knock at her door. "Enter," she said, expecting it to be Chejop. She was surprised, though pleased, to discover her caller was Gracious Shaia.

"I was a little worried," Gracious Shaia said, "when I saw Chejop leaving your office."

Dreaming Blue had stood. "I have nothing to fear from Kejak-sama. We may disagree, but we are friends."

An arched eyebrow suggested doubt on Shaia's part.

Dreaming Blue had no desire to argue it. She indicated that her guest should take a seat as she herself sat. "Is a misplaced concern about Kejak-sama the only reason you came?"

"I've always enjoyed your company, but I am here at the behest of Aisha Hikari Ex."

"About the Peleps girl."

Gracious Shaia nodded. "She is worried."

"At the moment she is safe enough, especially with Darken Gray watching over her."

There was something sad in Shaia's answering smile, something that made Dreaming Blue feel as if she had done some injustice.

"She does worry about those that might wish the child harm for what she is."

Dreaming Blue bit back the immediate reply of suggesting a number of things that Ivory was, and instead said, "I don't think Aisha Hikari Ex has to worry about any assassination attempts. At the moment there are too many people watching a little too closely."

"I suppose you are right," Gracious Shaia said, her smile unchanged, "but, well, Aisha Hikari Ex has never really gotten over the deaths of all the Golden Children during the Usurpation. While many of them grew up to be horrible people, while they were children, they shone. Aisha Hikari Ex sees something of those children in Ivory, and she is worried. Simply put, she does not trust the murderers of those children." She paused and turned her head to the side, her gaze focused on Dreaming Blue. "Would you?"

"Not fair."

"No, not really."

"I will be at the girl's side within the day. Even if there are those in Heaven that wish to see her dead, they will not approach in secret, and their actions will be known. She will be safe."

The smile that Shaia showed was every bit as bright and warm as her name would suggest and Dreaming Blue could not find it in herself to be upset.

* * *

Ivory did not take long in getting the work on the cargo ship finished. She knocked a lightning ballista and a concussive essence cannon together as the door guns, and tuned and tweaked both engines into combat readiness. Leaving the rest of the work to Albicore and Tar she went to her workroom and started on projects she found much more interesting.

She scattered various bits of scavenged material across her work bench. There was a great deal of it, and most people could be forgiven to think of it as little more than junk, but to Ivory it all had purpose.

Hu sat close by, watching her. When he spoke up Ivory was a little surprised by the question. "What did you do in Malfeas?"

Ivory put aside the device she was working on and looked towards Hu. She smiled. "So many things. I wish you could've come."

Hu's muscle rippled in what Ivory supposed might have been a shrug. "Gods do not do well in Malfeas."

Ivory nodded and leaned back on her high stool. "I saw so many things, they are so cruel there, but some of the things they make are so amazin'. I saw the Silent Wind's passage." She closed her eyes for a moment. "It was terrible."

She felt Hu's warmth as he moved close to her, she had not heard him cross the distance, but she would not have expected to.

Opening her eyes she continued. "I flew the skies with Janequin, and walked Alveua's forge, and Ligier kissed me on the forehead."

"As I would have expected," Hu said.

Ivory smiled at him, cause she was certain she heard pride in his voice.

She talked more about what she had seen and done, letting the terrible things be coloured by the amazing things, happy she had gone now that she had left.

When her recollections trailed off Hu asked her, "Would you go again?"

Ivory thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "Yes." She paused. "But not too soon."

Hu seemed satisfied with that answer and moved a little closer, gently butting his head against her.

Ivory laughed and reached out to run her fingers through the fur on his head.

After a time she turned back to her work as Hu lay down, curled protectively around the legs of the stool.

* * *

In the hall outside of Ivory's workroom Darken Gray leaned against the wall, listening to the talk between Ivory and Hu. There were things that Ivory had not told her, some of which the goddess found more than a little disturbing. The names that Ivory mentioned belonged to many terrible beings; though it seemed that none of them had shown their most terrible sides to the child.

"Eavesdropping is such a terrible habit," Dreaming Blue whispered into her ear.

Darken Gray was careful to contain her surprise, though she started a little. She had not expected the Sidereal to return, at least no so soon.

Turning to face her Darken Gray softly said, "It is, for you often hear things you do not wish to, if you are doing it for selfish reasons. I am not."

"Oh?"

"Children have no right to privacy or secrets, though I will allow them the illusion of such."

Dreaming Blue smiled. "Well answered. Though I suspect our little Twilight will not be happy, were she to learn that."

Darken Gray waved her hand dismissively. "Such a tantrum will pass." She moved away from the door, walking down the hall and away from the workroom. "And 'our little Twilight'?"

Dreaming Blue, who had followed after Darken Gray, said, "I've been guilted into ensuring Aisha Hikari Ex does not need to mourn the death of this child."

This surprised Darken Gray even more than the unexpected whisper had. She stopped and turned to face Dreaming Blue. "Pardon?"

"Gracious Shaia spoke to me. Thank her if you wish."

"I recall those days, I knew some of those Golden Children, I saw some die and avenged some others. Do you know that Sidereal?"

Dreaming Blue stiffened slightly, and Darken Gray supposed there could be some fear in those eyes, but most likely simply wariness. "I was not aware."

"Tell me, if you are ordered to harm Ivory, what will you do?"

"As long as she is favoured by the Lady Aisha Hikari Ex I would refuse. What's more I would act to protect her if I knew such orders were in effect."

"And when she grows up?"

Dreaming Blue shook her head. "When the girl leaves the nursery such protection will vanish."

It was a good answer, Darken Gray thought, and one she could trust. "Then I have to do my best to see she is ready."

"You only have a few years, do you think that will be enough time?"

"She is a Solar. She can learn in a few years what it would take you decades."

"Very true. Now then, tell me, how will you keep her safe in Vinleau, against the Wyld Hunt?"

Darken Gray was not surprised that Dreaming Blue knew, so she did not ask how the Sidereal had learned of that but instead, "Does Pelep Deled know we come?"

She shook her head. "There are too many in Yu-Shan who wish ill on Deled, he will not learn of supposes you will come and plans for it, but will not have forewarning."

"Good. And if you wish to know the plans, you will need to speak with Sparrow."

Dreaming Blue sighed. "More of Sparrow Hawk's plans. Should we expect a Death Lord to fall at the end of it?"

"I don't think that is part of this plan, but who knows? Solars' tactics can be exceedingly flexible."

* * *

Sparrow had let Red, Blue and Kiyoshi practice combat drops for the day, observing as they got better, faster. She watched their last practice run of the day in the setting sun and was pleased with it.

"If I had ten more of those ships and ten times the soldiers," she said softly, walking towards the ship as the soldiers were disembarking. Most saluted her in one manner or another as she passed, a respectful nod at the very least. In front of the ship Kiyoshi, Blue and Red were talking. Blue broke out of the group and ran towards her. "What do you think Sparrow?" She sounded excited.

"Your people are good." She raised her voice so Kiyoshi and Red, and some of the departing soldiers who were nearby could hear her. She did not tell them they would have to do the same thing at night.

"It is a most effective way of troop movement," Red said. "I can see why the Realm and Lookshy do so much to maintain their air power. This sort of force delivery, it is something you learn to enjoy."

"You enjoy the victory it brings," Sparrow told her.

"Fuck yeah," Kiyoshi shouted.

"Get some rest. We have a meeting tomorrow morning, and I need the ship this evening."

"Where are you going?" Red asked.

"Need to know at the moment, mainly because I am not sure I can get it to work."

The three Dragon Bloods were obviously curious. "Can I go with you?" Blue asked.

Sparrow thought about refusing, but decided there was no harm in it. She might even benefit from it. "You may."

"Then count me in," Kiyoshi said as Red said, "I shall come along as well."

"Get on board, I'm flying," Sparrow told them.

* * *

The jade powerbow came within a finger's width of cracking his skull. Heron twisted under it, dropped low, and swept Calla's legs. She fell back, releasing her bow, her hands slapping the floor as she broke her fall and redirected the force, sending her rolling backwards, her foot catching the bow and kicking it up.

Grabbing the bow from the air as she came up on her knees, she drew an arrow, put it to string and pulled back.

Heron came in, sliding on his knees, the barrel of one plasma tongue repeater catching the arrow head, the other extended, the barrel against Calla's stomach.

For a moment they remained like that before Calla said, "I yield."

The pistols disappeared at Heron Dismissed them.

Calla took her arrow from the string and returned it to the quiver before she straightened.

"As this how the Solars of the First Age trained Dragon Bloods?" Heron asked as he got to his feet.

Calla looked a little embarrassed. "I was a medical specialist really. There were Dragon Bloods trained by Dawns that were far superior."

The walls of the room around them were studded in arrows, and marred with burn marks, broken furniture was scattered all about. "I'll keep that in mind," Heron told her. "You're good."

"Adequate."

"For this age you are good."

"Yet another thing that has faded in this age then." She sighed.

"What was it like?"

Calla walked over to the wall and pulled an arrow out. "So different." She examined the arrow head. "Greater. Everything, everything was so much… so much more."

She turned and looked at him. "When I was pushed into that stasis chamber it was the height of the first age, the Solar's power at their greatest. I wake up and it is like the world I knew never existed."

Heron looked her over, the set of her shoulders, the shape of her lips, the spacing between her feet. It was all telling him things, and he was almost certain that what it was telling him was the whole truth.

Almost.

He believed she was from the first age. He wondered how many other loyal servants might have been placed in Stasis, against the day when the Solars returned.

Probably not too many.

Tenrae, from Calla's description, seemed wise, able to see what the future held and accept it.

Heron wondered, when he became as powerful as the Solars of old if he could accept such a possibility.

"It must be hard to talk about."

She nodded.

"Then let's talk about how things are now."

He walked over to the wreckage of a table and salvaged several pieces of paper. "I've seen how you fight, now show me how well you can plan. We don't have long to put Sparrow's mobile force together."

She dropped the arrow and walked over to him. "What will we be mounted on?"

Heron smiled. "What indeed?"

"What does the mean."

"It means Sparrow may have a surprise. For the moment let us assume horses."

"Regular horses are a problem. They are limited."

"So how do we deal with those limits?"

She took a piece of paper from him and looked it over. "We start by picking our people carefully."

* * *

Four days after Heron and Ivory had returned to the Ice Tree the first military expedition mounted by Sparrow and her forces launched.

The hull that Ivory had brought out of the south had been made level, its interior outfitted with basic crew amenities by Albicore and the yard workers.

The Razor was mounted to the bow, strapped down, and the cargo ship to the stern. The lower holds had been converted to stables and housed Sparrow's 'surprise'.

"We need to put down in this lake," Sparrow told Ivory, holding up a map.

"I know," Ivory said as she snatched the map from Sparrow's hands.

"Ivory," Darken Gray's tone was reproachful, "apologize."

The girl took a deep breath and then said, "I'm sorry. We will get there."

Sparrow nodded and left Ivory on the bow. "Five minutes," she called back.

"Five minutes," Ivory agreed.

Sparrow found Albicore at the stern, checking over the straps that would hold the cargo ship in place.

He looked up and nodded to her. "Everything is secure."

"Good. You and Tar can keep things running here. We won't be gone long and as far as we can tell there are no threats directed at the Ice Tree, for the moment."

"We'll be fine, as long as you return soon. This enterprise falls apart without Solars."

She nodded. "We'll be back."

Albicore looked about. "Hell of a thing, and you could transport a dragon of troops if you had to."

"Useful if I had a dragon."

Albicore laughed, and then said, "It's not easy. You warned me, but what that Peleps girl can do, it makes me feel useless."

Sparrow put a hand on his shoulder. "Far from useless."

"You're leaving me to mind the store."

Sparrow thought she heard an accusation there. "Best choice for it."

He gave his head a shake. "Don't mind me. Just an old man having problems getting used to the change. We'll be here when you get back, more ships completed and the yard dogs will be working better than ever."

"I'll hold you to that Albicore."

"As you should Captain." He turned and walked to the railing, swung a leg over it. "Give them hell. Deled is a piece of shit and it is about time that someone put him down."

"Understood."

Albicore went down the boarding ladder, and a few seconds later calls went up that they were all clear.

Sparrow waited as on the bow Ivory called for her winged spirt that would fly the ship and the forces it carried to the Scavenger Lands and Deled.


	26. The Conclusion of the Hunt

**The Conclusion of the Hunt**

* * *

In her room, with the light of a small glow stone, Alya Stonewalk read the scroll, careful not to bend the old paper. It was an exorcism prayer, an old one, and one she had not had time to study, thanks to Peleps Deled and his stupid lessons on the Immaculate Faith.

She ran a careful finger down the page, sounding out the characters, getting a feel for the rhythm. Her parents told her the sound was important. She took a small breath, ready to continue, when she heard a soft tapping sound. She lifted her head from her work, looking towards the window.

After a moment she dimmed the light of the stone and then slowly slid out of her bed. The wood floor would creak slightly if she was not careful how she moved. She was worried that the window might squeak when she opened it.

She leaned up against the window, looking out. There was something out there in the darkness, a shadowy figure.

"If you're a ghost you got to tell me," she whispered.

"I'm not a stupid ghost, let me in."

Alya had to be careful not to cry out happily, and she slowly slid the window up, glad that the wood frame was quiet.

Ivory slipped into the room, looking out the way she had come, then she dipped down and smiled up at Ayla. "Hi," she said softly.

"Ivory," Ayla nearly squeaked as she fell forward and wrapped her arms around Ivory, mindful enough to be careful she did not make too much noise.

Ivory hugged Ayla back and whispered in her ear, "Sorry I didn't get here sooner. Stupid Deled."

"Stupid Deled," Ayla agreed, trying not to laugh.

"Are you okay?" Ivory asked.

Ayla nodded against Ivory. "They haven't hurt anyone, not even Jinkar, and he's, well, been Jinkar."

"I'm glad."

"What're we going to do Ivory?"

"Gonna get rid of the Hunt."

"How?" She felt hopeful, she felt it was like old times, she and Ivory planning something.

"How can I get news to Deled, so he'll believe it?"

Ayla started giggling.

"What?"

"Stupid Berk."

"What about stupid Berk?"

"Deled likes him."

It took Ivory a few second to answer and she said, "Deled is stupider than I thought."

Ayla buried her face in Ivory's shoulder to stifle her laughter. Once she had control of herself she asked, "What do I need to do?"

"Can you get Berk to tell him that you are going to meet me, at the old damn?"

"When?"

"Tomorrow night, after midnight."

"When should I tell Berk?"

"How long will it take for him to tell Deled?"

Ayla shifted around, so she sat beside Ivory, still holding her. "Late at night, he's scared of the dark…"

"Still?"

"Still. So it will take him some time to work up to it."

"What if he tells his brother or parents, or your parents?"

"Berk is stupid. I'll make sure he won't." She thought it through. "Maybe thirty minutes after I tell him."

"Let him know an hour `fore midnight then. Then come straight to the old damn."

"I'd hav to run the whole way to get there by midnight," Ayla protested.

"I could run the whole way."

Ayla bristled, then almost laughed. "If I can run the whole way I get to dare you."

"Deal." Ivory said.

"It's gonna be okay, right?"

"Of course."

Ayla had missed that confidence and she hugged Ivory tighter. "When Deled is gone, will you leave again?"

Ivory was quiet for a few seconds before saying, "I haf to. But I'll come back."

"Promise?"

Ivory reached for Ayla's hand, hooked her pinky around Ayla's pink and said, "Swear."

"You'd better."

* * *

For Ayla the next day seemed to drag. There were her chores, and studying, and then she had to go to the lessons the monks taught. Her parents told her that Deled and his monks were experts in the Immaculate doctrine, and only a fool did not learn from experts.

She kind of liked the martial arts stuff, only because she usually took it as a chance to make Berk cry.

Deled was not the one giving them lessons that day, instead if was a monk named Noscible. Ayla hated him for many reasons, not the least of which was how boring he was.

At least Deled was never boring, though she hated him as well.

Later as she lay in the bed, listening for the faint sound of the hours being marked off, she wondered what would happen when Ivory got rid of the Wyld Hunt. Ayla was old enough to understand there could be consequences.

Sometimes, just sometimes, she thought to herself, Ivory did not worry about the consequences.

She shook her head and pulled her bed covers tighter around herself, dozing, not quite asleep.

The far off ringing of the watchman's bell marked two hours before midnight.

She climbed out of her bed, moving quietly about her room, getting dressed. Then she knelt by her door, listening to the sounds of the house, the soft creaking of wood settling, the occasional pop of the kitchen stove cooling. Satisfied no one was about she opened her door, pushing up on the latch, so the hinges did not squeak, and slipped out into the hall.

The top floor of the house was small, with room for storage and two small bedrooms, hers and the one that Pon had used ever since he and his family had come there.

She stopped before creeping by Pon's door, listening. She had thought Pon was amazing when he had first come, but she had been such a little girl back then, and he had grown up into an insufferable jerk.

She slipped by his door and down the stairs to the larger second story of the house, where the bigger bedrooms were, where her parents and uncle and aunt slept, as well as Berk.

Berk's tiny bedroom was near a window, beyond which was a convenient tree. She did not use it as an escape route very often, and not since Berk had become old enough to tattle on her.

She was careful where she stepped, treading lightly on one of the boards that would creak softly in Berk's room, muffled enough so that it would be nearly inaudible in the room next to Berk's where his parents slept. Remaining motionless she waited until she heard the sound of Berk moving in his room. He was not as quiet as she, but he was small and his weight made little noise as moved about the room.

Ayla went to the window and pushed it open slowly, letting it make a soft squeak, then she waited. The sound of Berk's door opening sounded surprisingly loud, and she heard the draw of breath as he was about to speak.

Cat fast she turned and grasped Berk, putting a hand over his mouth. She drove him back into his room, across the floor, pushed him onto his bed, letting the mattress and bedding absorb some of the sound.

"Yer a little sneak mouse Berk. I ought to bloody your nose."

Berk shook his head, for she still covered his mouth, denying that he was a sneak mouse or that she bloody his nose.

She leaned in close and whispered into his ear. "You better be quiet Berk, you better just hide under you covers. I'm going to meet Ivory, we're gonna leave and have `ventures. She's comin` with an airship to the old damn, and I'm leavin`. You stay here with Deled and kiss him some more."

Berk again shook his head, and tried to say something. Ayla pinched his arm, hard enough to cause a bruise and he went quiet. "You're not gonna say anything. Ivory's got a giant tiger, and it will eat anyone who comes after. And then it will come here and gobble you up in one bite."

In the dim light she could see Berk's wide eyes and knew she had put enough fear in him to keep him quiet.

"You make one squeak and I'll rub your face in dirt again."

She took her hand from his mouth and slipped from his room.

Berk was quiet behind her.

She opened the window, did not close it behind her, Berk would never be able to open in quietly if she closed it.

As she climbed down the tree she knew Berk would follow, and then run off to tell Deled, or one of the monks. The tiger threat would not keep him in his room too long. Berk, she knew, had no real imagination. If she had told him the tiger would bite him like the baker's dog had bit him, then he would hide under his covers for the whole night.

* * *

Deled looked over the maps and reports spread out on the floor in front of him. His tent contained nothing but a single cot, a shelf, stuffed full of books, papers and scrolls, and his armour stand. The tent itself was a made of steel silk and threads of jade, various magic worked into it. He was aware that someone approached even before they were close enough to tap on the material.

He was already on his feet, the papers neatly stacked and put on the shelf, when his visitors announced they were there.

"Enter," he said.

Shaien entered, bowing low. She held the boy Berk's hand as she led him in. He was dressed in sleeping clothes, there was a tear in the pants and a smear of dirt on his face.

"The boy wishes to speak to you Peleps-sama. He says he has news of the Anathema."

Deled had found the boy's belief in him and in his hatred of the Anathema to be a balm of sort. He also found the child to be occasional annoying, but he supposed that was true of most small children.

He looked down at Berk and said, "What news do you bring?"

"My cousin snuck out ta see the n'thema. She tried to stop me, but I used mn`goose `scapes the snake to get away from her and jumped out the window."

Deled frowned. "Mongoose escapes the snake?" He looked towards Shaien.

"Brother Orvis gives some maneuvers overly fancy names," she said.

Deled frowned, but looked back to Berk. "You were brave to escape."

Berk smiled and nodded. "Ayla said she's gonna meet at the old damn, that there's an airship an` a giant tiger."

Deled turned towards the shelf and pulled a map free, causing several things to fall. "The old damn, the one up the Fox Leg river?"

Berk nodded. "Uh huh."

He put the map on the floor, spread it out, ran a large finger along the paper to where the old damn was marked. "Large enough to land an airship," he said. "How long?"

Shaien knelt down as well, looking at the map. "Forty minutes. Ten to get everyone up and ready, thirty minutes at a run. If we only take the core, twenty minutes."

Deled considered it. "The Anathema is fleeing, cowardly, we only need the core."

"Peleps-sama, it could be a trap. Anzar spoke of such traps." She sounded nervous, scared.

He looked up at her, saw it was not the Anathema she feared, or traps, but him.

"If this airship comes while we gather we loose her."

Shaien nodded, swallowed, "But the cousin is just a girl, at night, it will probably take her two hours to reach the damn. We have time."

Deled wanted to refute that, he wanted to take his core of monks, to sweep across the land with the righteous speed to the Dragons. But Shaien was right.

"My monks, the soldiers from the realm, and the ones from Lookshy will move up the Fox Leg," he said, running his hand along the line on the map. "Tyne will take his archers and the rest up along this trail, move into the forest on the side of the damn. If the Anathema think to lay a trap they will find our trap waiting for them." He smiled. "And if an airship comes down, Tyne has the weapon to knock it out of the sky."

"I'll go with you," Berk said.

"There is a difference between bravery and stupidity," he told him. "The Dragons see your actions, and they will be rewarded. You will have your chance to fight Anathema, but not this night." He stood. "Teppet, get our forces ready." He reached for his armour.

* * *

Berk had been put in a small tent, been told to wait there.

He had not listened.

His cousin was not the only one who could have adventures. He had grabbed a small knife and had gone out into the darkness, to follow the monks. He would help them fight the Anathema. When they needed it he would jump from hiding and stick his knife into Ivory.

Then he would become a Dragon Blood and Deled would take him to fight the Mask of Winters.

He gripped the knife tightly as he tried to follow, but only a short distance from the camp it got dark, and the monks were moving so fast. He started to run, tripped, fell, got back up, looking around. He could hear sound all around him, but had lost site of the monks.

Something gripped him on the shoulder.

He spun, to slash with his knife, but the knife was no longer in his hand.

Something shadowy loomed up in front of him. He felt something blow across his face and a moment later it was as if he had fallen asleep as darkness rushed over him.

* * *

Rappel caught up the boy before he could fall. He carried the small form back to the camp in short order, returned him to the tent.

"You're lucky my boss does not want any fatalities among you villagers," he said as he dropped the boy onto the tent's cot. "Up to me I'd let you get killed."

Rappel took a moment to place the knife on the table, then headed out into the darkness.

The camp was nearly deserted, just a few non-combatants left behind to keep a watch on things. Rappel moved through it unseen, walking towards Vinleau. He expected to find other children trying to follow.

Made stupid on a crazy man's interpretation of the Immaculate texts.

He would have liked to be in on the fighting, but Sparrow was putting the safety of the villagers on him.

Out of the camp he began to run, footfalls nearly silent as he passed through the orchards.

* * *

Anzar was breathing deep, catching his breath.

They had run from the camp, up along the Fox Leg, as fast as the lack of illumination and rough terrain would allow. It had taken them a little more than twenty minutes to reach the broken gates of the old damn, but they had not caught up with the girl.

That bothered him. Had the girl enjoyed that much of a lead on them?

There was only a little natural illumination, the night sky was covered in patchy clouds, the moon and the stars peaking out for moments at a time.

He had been to the old damn during the day once before, knew what it looked like. A shallow depression, a mile across, lined with white tiles of first age materials. The Fox Leg ran through the middle of the of the depression, out the broken gates. There were ruined buildings on the edges of the tiled pool, no hint as to what it was used for in the First Age.

The gibbous moon appeared from behind the clouds, the light seeming to make the white tiles glow, making everything seem so bright. And in that light they saw three forms on the far side of the depression, up near the rim.

Close by Deled told them, "We will circle through the woods, we will cut them off from the woods, make sure they can't escape that way. Shaien, Anzar, kill the tiger, try not to damage the beast too much, I will have its pelt as a trophy. The rest of you will keep the girls from escaping, but once we have our hands on them take up defensive positions around them."

Deled continued to refine his orders, but Anzar was only half listening. Occasionally the nature of the air and the acoustics of the damn would bring the voices of the girls to him. The one that had to be Ivory was talking about all the wonderful things they would see, the other, Ayla, asking questions.

They seemed so at ease.

He felt anything but.

Was tonight the night that Heron finally killed him?

He almost missed it when Deled ordered them to move out.

They moved through the trees, following a path chosen by a pair of air aspected monks, Deled's rangers. For the size of the company they were very quiet.

They had a few seconds of surprise on their side when they exited the woods, charging towards where the girls and the tiger rested. There were cries of alarms, and a scream of the tiger. He watched as the tiger ripped through one of the monks, teeth set in the back of the man's neck claws shredding muscle and skin. He saw Ivory draw a pair of golden swords, spin away from a soldier, cutting him open as she did, stabbing another through as she moved to shield her friend.

Then he and Shaien were face to face with the tiger, and he had little room to spare attention for the girls.

Shaien threw quick punches at the tiger, her red jade smash fists crackling with elemental energy. She failed to land any attacks, the tiger twisting and turning and then going in for a kill. Shaien caught its attack against her smash fists and Anzar moved in, slashing at it with his daiklaive.

The tiger roared and twisted, a storm of teeth and claws and when all three backed away for a moment all three were bloodied.

There was a high pitched scream, and Deled yelled out, "Hold Anathema or I snap your followers neck."

Anzar took a moment to look as he heard Ivory yell 'no!'. More soldiers and monks lay dead, but Deled held the Stonewalk girl in his arms.

"Now," he heard Shaien shout, turned back to see her hit the tiger, apparently distracted by its mistress distress. Several of her punches landed, at least one with the sound of cracking bone. She wrapped her arms around its neck and flipped it and herself over.

The opening presented itself. Anzar, recalling Deled's desires for a trophy, stabbed it through the chest, right into its heart.

"Hu!" he heard Ivory scream.

He looked, saw several monks had grabbed her by the arms, holding her. Deled passed the Stonewalk girl to Nobscible and walked towards Ivory.

"I'll kill you," Ivory screamed and sobbed, staring at Anzar. "I'll kill you, and find your ghost, and make it into soulsteel. I'll…"

"Silence Anathema," Deled bellowed, and backhanded the girl. Anzar watched as her head snapped to the side and she went silent but for choked sobs.

Heron Jade Eyes will kill us all, was Anzar's only thought.

Deled wrapped his hands in her red hair, yanked her head up, bending it back so she had to look up at him. "Where are the other Anathema? When is the airship coming."

"Go to hell," Ivory spat out at him.

Deled hit her again and then called, "Nobscible."

The monk holding the other girl walked over to Deled's side, keeping a tight hold on the struggling child.

"A little incentive please."

"Yes Peleps-sama," Nobscible said as shifted his grip on the girl he held, pulled a knife from his robes and plunged it into her side.

The Stonewalk girl cried out, and Ivory screamed foul words at Deled.

Deled gave Ivory a shake. "That wound will not kill her immediately, but it will kill her. If you wish to see her saved Anathema tell me what I want to know. Tell me where the others are!" he screamed in her face.

The strength seemed to leave ivory for her body sagged, and she sobbed like a lost child. Anzar turned his head away.

"I grow impatient Anathema. Tell me what I want to know."

The sobbing grew higher, louder and terrifyingly turned to laughter.

Anazr looked to see the manically laughing girl twist in the arms that held her as she looked up at Deled. In a voice that did not sound like her own she said, "They are already here."

Anzar took several steps back towards the woods, looking around the area. He saw Deled hit Ivory again, possibly hard enough that he killed her, as he screamed that she tell him what he wanted to know.

He was almost at the woods when the world exploded, there was pain, a sense of flying, and then he knew no more.

* * *

Deled stood among bodies and flame and the tiles that glowed red. His ears rang and he had to shake his head to clear the noise. His gaze fell on the body of Nobscible, the man's legs had been blown away, as had much of his head. His body had shielded the girl in his arms slightly, but she was most certainly dead as well.

Everyone was dead, as far as he could tell.

He had survived the blast and fire by allowing the damage to sink to the bottomless depths of his essence. The technique kept him alive, but the cost was great and were he to use it too often it would kill him.

Something moved in the dark, the light of the flames nearly blinding him to what lay beyond the flickering illumination.

"If you are an enemy step forward," Deled said. He shifted his spear around and pointed it toward the movement.

A woman stepped into the light, a little shorter than average, dark hair, her golden breastplate shone in the firelight. At first he thought she carried no weapons, but then he saw the hilts, jutting out at the level of her hips.

"Give me your name," Deled demanded.

She remained on the periphery of the light and spoke. "The bombs fell for two minutes, dropped from a ship so high you never knew it was there. All because you decided you needed to torture children."

Deled gripped the spear tight in his hands. He eyes fell on the remains of the Anthema, ripped apart by the explosion. "So speaks the killer of children."

She laughed. She actually laughed. "Oh Deled, those were just demons, summoned to lead you in, demons who could change their shapes."

"You lie!"

"Believe what you will. I am Sparrow Hawk, and you are just another monster who needs to be killed." She drew her weapons, a short, golden sword and a sword breaker of white jade.

Deled charged her, spear leading.

* * *

Tyne Was still moving into position when there was a flash like lightning, and something lit up the sky for a moment with flame. A moment later a blast wave pulsed through the forest, causing the trees to sway and creak, and the ground rumbled beneath his feet.

As blast and rumble subsided Tyne called out over the cries of alarm. "Forward, we are needed!"

The order was passed and they advanced. In the darkness there was danger of men getting lost, especially at the pace he had set, but he heard his sergeants ordering people to look to the broken branches to discern the direction of the blast and which way they should move.

Good people, all of them, he thought with a smile.

It was shortly after that he herd a sound he could not immediately place, then cries of alarm and scream of pain.

The sound he had heard was hooves, and moment later someone was calling out that it was a cavalry attack, which was of course impossible. Cavalry at night, and in a forest? There was no way.

More screams, and the pounding of hooves.

How often, Tyne thought, had the commanders of the Teppet legions said what the Bull of the North had done was impossible?

"Tight groups," Tyne called out, his voice booming out through the trees. "Watch your arcs, use the trees for cover. We stand and fight!"

* * *

Ivory wanted to be part of the fight.

It did not matter that she had summoned the demons that had led Deled into the killing zone. Or that she had made the essence bombs that had detonated not long ago, nor that she had summoned the air elementals to hide the ship that had held station far above. Even the riding gear she had made for Heron's mobile archers did not seem to be enough.

Ivory wanted to be fighting.

But they had not allowed her.

Ayla took her hand, gave it a squeeze, shifted closer to her. "It sounds so terrible," she said.

Darken Gray was there, kneeling in front of them, the sound of battle seeming to fade a little. "It is terrible," she told Ayla, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. "Battle always is, and it has always been with us, but at this moment, you are safe, as is your village."

Ayla nodded, her grip on Ivory's hand lessening a little. "I hope Berk is okay," she said a moment later. "He's stupid and smells, but it'd make my aunt and uncle sad if he was killed."

"He'll be okay," Ivory told her. "Heron and Sparrow arranged it so someone would stop stupid boys from trying to help Deled."

"I'm glad."

Ivory nodded and wished again she could join in the fighting.

* * *

Heron brought Dragon around the trunk of a huge, old tree, the horse's hooves clipping the trunk. The archers that had sheltered there tried to bring their bows around, but Dragon trampled them and Heron's beamklaive ended them.

Nearby there was a scream. One of his own archers, mounted upon a wolf with steel fur, had landed amongst another group of the enemy. Wolf and rider together killed the two men quickly, then, linking up with another three of the wolf riders, went in search of new targets.

Wyld wolves, Sparrow's surprise, only part of the total pack she had explained.

The wolves saw well in the dark, the riders, assisted with some of Heron and Calla's charms took to fighting from wolf back like they had been doing it for years.

Heron lifted a whistle of orichalcium and blue jade to his lips, gave a series of piercing signals.

A few seconds later he heard answering whistles, letting him know the disposition of his forces. He made a reply and then put the whistle away.

"Let's go Dragon," he said, and set off to a new location of battle.

* * *

Twenty three archers emerged from the woods, among tress felled by the earlier blast. In the faint light of the fires they saw two figures fighting upon the tiles of the damn's depression. One was obviously Deled and the other was surrounded by golden fire and therefore their enemy.

"Let's move," the sergeant ordered.

They had only got a few steps when the airship dropped nearly atop them. It turned its port side towards the forest and from an open door a bolt of lighting erupted, rending ground, shattering fallen tress, and killing five men.

The ship continued its turn, presenting its tail to the sergeant and his diminished forces. From an open ramp descended a force, led by two, spear wielding women. They fell upon the archers, charged right through them, leaving half dead or wounded.

They did not even turn, for the airship had hoped over the fight, and was directly in front of the women and their forces. They ran right up the ramp, back into the ship. Before the sergeant could order that his people follow, the airship had turned its starboard side to them and this time it was a concussive cannon that fired on them.

It was too much for the sergeant who ordered a retreat even as he fled.

* * *

Sparrow caught the spear head in her sword breaker, giving it a twist, pushing it off to the side as she moved in on Deled, slashing him across the side, the orichalcium blade cutting through armour and deep into his chest, a twist of the blade surely piercing lung. She ducked low under a swing of his arm, below the razor claws he wore, let the movement become a roll and put some distance between her and him.

That was the second fatal wound she had inflicted on Deled, but he had not died. Heron and Dreaming Blue told her he could siphon his wounds away, into the limitless depths of the Water Dragon. However, they had told her that he could only do it so many times.

Both had also been clear in telling her not to let him touch her. His control over water and essence could harm her greatly if he were to land an attack, even if it left her unharmed.

Heron had taught her a defence that would allow her to parry any attack, and she had used it several times already, where before she might have just let the attack hit and denied its ability to harm her.

Deled's anima was the pounding surf and the riptide, surrounding him with water that might tear her feet from under her were she not careful. Her own anima was a gold bonfire.

Deled leapt at her, swinging his spear down like its tip was the blade of an axe. She stepped forward, caught it in her sword breaker. She drove spear back as essence flowed into her muscles, making her for a moment much stronger than he.

The butt of the spear was driven back, under Deled's armour and into his stomach, up to push against his diaphragm.

He fell backwards, an explosive breath driven from him as well as a fine mist of blood. When he hit the ground he rolled backwards, his spear clattering from his grasp. Coming up on his knees he drew in a ragged, painful sounding breath as Sparrow charged at him.

He leaned forward, shouting out an essence laden wave that rolled across the tiled ground, smashing bodies and putting out fire. As it hit her Sparrow let her skin become like adamant and it rolled over her, leaving her unharmed. As he was not touching her she felt safe enough calling on the charm.

Continuing her charge she slashed out with her sword, cutting him deep across the throat, spinning behind him as she drove the sharpened tip of the sword breaker into his back.

He screamed and surged to his feet, turning on her with a series of wild attacks, blood running from his ears and eyes.

"You will not deny the rage of the Dragons!"

Sparrow blocked the attack and kicked him on the side of his knee, causing the leg to buckle, giving her room to back off. "I do not deny it, but I will use it," she told him as her anima went iconic, the golden griffon surrounding her.

* * *

Tyne finally escaped the woods. He was alone, and had no idea how many of his soldiers remained living. And in front of him was a vast griffon of sunlight, and the woman who stood within, surely beautiful and terrible, was driving Deled back.

He dropped his power bow and slung his cannon up on his shoulder, feeding essence into it. It unfolded to its full size and he locked onto the Anathema. He smiled as he fired.

There was a flash of light, and the bolt of killing essence shot off at nearly a right angle, exploding high above him.

Between him and the Anathema was another, beautiful figure, surrounded by gold fire, astride a warhorse, essence blade held out.

Tyne charged the cannon and fired again.

The Anathema's horse cantered forward, the rider's essence blade slashing high, catching the blast and parrying it into the sky.

Impossible his mind screamed as he fired again. The parry neatly reversed the next bolt and Tyne felt the heat of its passage.

He was about to shoot again, but he felt something, as if someone had punched him three, maybe four times, in his side. It was hard to breathe, and he could not quite manage to charge the weapon again.

Looking down he saw four arrows, each buried nearly to its fletchings in his side.

As he raised his head he saw the archer, a woman mounted on a steel wolf, in the light of the Anathema's anima he saw roses blooming in her black hair. He watched her release an arrow, felt two more that must have already been in the air hit him in the throat.

Amazing, he thought.

He did not feel the last arrow that pierced him through the eye and out the back of his skull.

* * *

Anzar's eyes opened to bright daylight, and he wondered how long he had been out. He moved, felt blinding pain in his right arm. Taking deep breaths he looked at his arm, saw it was bent unnaturally, bone pieced through the skin.

Still not quite certain as to what was going on he grasped his right wrist with his left and pulled the bones straight.

It hurt so much he almost fainted.

Carefully he struggled to his feet, using the three that he had been up against to steady himself.

He looked about. His gaze fell first on Shaien, lying not too far from where he had been. Her left leg was missing from just above the knee, blood flowing sluggishly from the wound.

Anzar stumbled forward, yanking his belt free with his left arm, dropping to his knees at her side, wrapping the belt around the leg, just above the wound. He pulled it tight and stopped the bleeding.

Taking a deep breath he looked around, ready to call for some help.

It was then he saw the bodies, scattered and torn, and Deled fighting Sparrow.

Anzar did not think Deled was winning.

Once again the Solars had led their enemy into a trap and destroyed them.

Once again he was part of a Wyld Hunt they had destroyed.

No more.

With his good left arm he lifted Shaien, tossed her over his shoulder, then he knelt down and grabbed up his daikliave.

No more.

Moving at as fast a run as his wounds would allow, carrying Shaien away from the battle, he fled.

No more.

* * *

Sparrow circled Deled, watching how he favoured his right leg, how his right arm did not quite move with the same speed as his left, and how he kept shaking his head to clear the blood that ran into his right eye.

She was not wounded, but she was tired, and had spent nearly all her essence. Likely Deled had little essence left as well. Likely he was hoping to end the fight soon.

"You've never fought a group of Solars before, have you?" she asked, changing the direction she was moving, seeing his left leg almost buckle as he shifted to keep watch on her.

He did not answer.

"That's what changed," she told him. "Heron told me that. You don't get to chase single Solars into the ground, using numbers against them. Not anymore. Your numbers mean nothing, we can take them away from you easily." She took a few steps back, saw that he did not follow. "And we are no longer alone."

"The Anathema will fall before the Righteous Dragons."

"Righteous," Sparrow laughed as she moved towards him, circling to his left. "Usurpers, taking what was not theirs, and letting Creation fade to death, disease and the Wyld. The Dragons are not righteous, they are ungrateful worms!"

"Blasphemer!"

He came at her, so very fast, almost as if his left leg was not about to fail him, almost as if he had the full strength of his right arm.

Once again Sparrow caught the spear head in her sword breaker, and gave it a vicious twist to Deled's right.

The spear came from his hands. spinning up into the air.

He lashed out with his razor claws, the black jade cutting across Sparrow's shoulder.

As she plunged the sword breaker through a rent in his armour she felt a burning in her chest, as if her lungs were filled with something other than air. She coughed it out, feeling the water spill form her mouth and out her nose.

Deled tried to grab her, but his hand closed on empty space as Sparrow used the planted hilt of the sword breaker like a handle, spinning and lifting, turning Deled to his left, forcing his weight onto his left leg.

There was an almost inaudible pop as the knee went, and he fell to his side. Sparrow completed the turn, she was behind him and he was on his knees.

She dropped her golden sword, spun back, grabbed Deled's dire spear from the air, spun forward, twirled the heavy, clumsy weapon in her hands and then drove it through the back of his neck, out the front, down until the tip hit the tiles and stopped.

Deled was pinned, like a bug, his arms trembled as he tried to life them and he made garbled sounds as his throat filled with blood.

Above her her anima raised its head in a silent scream of victory, its talons of sunlight closing around Deled.

Sparrow fell to her knees and hacked up all the water that had nearly drowned her. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, coming away with water and snot, then reached for her fallen sword.

As she stood the griffon lowered its head towards Deled.

As she swung out with her blade, cutting the top of his head, just below his ears, from the rest of his body, the griffon's beaked maw closed over his head.

His blood sprayed, the droplets like rubies in the sunlight of her anima.

* * *

Music Suggestions

Roughest Red Neck Around by Corb Lund for Deled


	27. Separations and Afterwards

**Separations and Afterwards**

* * *

"You did not leave a lot for burial," Lieutenant Whitebridge said.

"That was not our intent," Heron told him.

The two stood in the depression of the old damn, not far from where the essence bombs had fallen the night before. Deled's body, still pinned by his spear, remained where Sparrow had killed him.

"No, it looks like your intent was to send a message."

"Do you think it will be heard?"

The Lieutenant looked around. "Heard, yes, listened to? Who knows?"

Heron nodded. "There were soldiers from Lookshy amongst Deled's forces. Is this going to be a problem?"

"Officially no. They were all volunteers who knew they might die. Theirs was not a sanctioned mission. It was diplomacy."

"And unofficially?"

"Watch your back if you come to Lookshy."

"And what about Vinleau?"

"Vinleau has nothing to fear from the Seventh Legion."

"What will you do now?"

"Now?" Lieutenant Whitebridge looked around. "Now I get people up here to bag remains before they begin to stink too bad. They will be returned to Lookshy for burial, and the Realm will be informed they can repatriate the bodies of her citizens."

"No reason for them to visit Vinleau."

"None at all."

"And if they ask about where this battle took place?"

"There are lots of places called the old damn in the River Province. Mistakes will be made."

Heron smiled. "Thank you."

"You saved Lookshy and removed the Mask of Winters. You are owed."

"My people will be pulling out of here soon. If you need anything you had better ask now."

Whitebridge shook his head. "We were sent to protect the innocent and pick up the pieces. We have everything we need for that."

"Good luck then, and thank you Lieutenant."

* * *

"I want you to have this," Ivory said, handing a cloth wrapped bundle to Ayla.

"What is it?" Ayla asked.

"Unwrap it."

Ayla set it on her lap and carefully untied the silk chord, then pulled the cloth away. Within was the parasol that Ivory had made for her trip into Malfeas.

Lifting it carefully, as if it were made of glass, she opened slowly. "It's beautiful."

"That's a prayer to the Unconquered Sun on the inside, when you spin it…"

"It's like a prayer wheel."

Ivory smiled and nodded, then explained the many other features of the parasol to Ayla.

"You're just givin` this to me?"

Ivory nodded. "You're my friend. I want you to be safe."

"You're leavin` again."

"I haf to," Ivory told her.

"Can I come with you?"

Ivory wanted to say yes, almost did, but she knew Darken Gray would not allow it, and she knew that she could not be certain of Ayla's safety.

"Not this time. After Calibration, you can come up North, I'll show you the Ice Tree."

Ayla folded the parasol closed and laid it across her knees. They were up on a high hill that looked down on Vinleau. "You're not goin` there now?"

Ivory shook her head. "There's somethin` else I have to do first."

Ayla nodded. "I'll see you after Calibration Ivory, and you better come. I ran all the way and you owe me a dare. If you don't come, I'll make it somethin` bad, like you have to kiss Berk."

Ivory made a a moue of distaste, then laughed. "No matter what. I'll be here."

Ayla held out her pinky.

Ivory took it and they reinforced their bond.

* * *

The hull that Ivory had brought from the desert floated in a small lake, about a day's ride from Vinleau (only a few minutes by airship). Sparrow saw the wolves down into their stables, growling at them when they tarried.

They smelled a world full of prey and they wanted to hunt. Sparrow was going to have none of that.

She had only taken part of the pack, leaving their leader (her beta she supposed) and the majority of the wolves to their range. She hoped that the wolves would not get ideas in their heads. The last thing she wanted was that the wolves would try to migrate south.

Once she had them secured she returned to the deck to oversee the work there. Crews were making the Razor and the cargo ship fast to the hull.

She walked to where Kiyoshi, shirt off, was winching a strap tight.

"We need to give this a name," she told him.

He wiped perspiration from his forehead with his artificial arm. "Something poetic?"

"I was thinking of Heavy One."

"Heavy One?"

"It's out first heavy lift vehicle."

"There is no poetry in that," he looked over his shoulder at the ship. "And that's a name for your primary heavy lift ship. You'd have to call it Heavy First."

She shook her head. "Don't like it."

"Then name it for its colour and environment, call it Red Sky."

"Red Sky?" She looked at the ship for several seconds, then smiled and nodded. "Why not."

"It's a good name."

"Glad you think so, you'll probably be flying it a lot."

"Glorified wagon driver is what that sounds like."

"Get back to work," Sparrow told him, leaving him as she made her way to the bow.

On the shore of the lake, by themselves, she saw Heron and Ivory, close together, talking. Once again she felt that stab of irrational jealousy.

She walked down the makeshift gangway and then over to where the two were speaking. Heron saw her coming and waved her over.

"What are you discussing?"

"Ivory says she is not coming back with us," Heron told her.

"Then how do you propose to get that back to the Ice Tree?" she indicated the hull.

"I can summon the spirit and tell it to take you back. Don't need to be with the ship."

"That is useful to know," Sparrow told her. "But where are you going."

"The Elemental Poles," Ivory said softly.

"You still don't know what you need to do there," Heron said. His tone of voice made Sparrow suspect it was not the first time he had raised that argument.

"I will when I get to the first Pole. Probably before that even. I need to move now, when we have as much time as possible."

"She's right," Sparrow said, wondering even as she said it is part of her wanted to get rid of Ivory.

Heron did not say anything immediately, but nodded. "I suppose she is."

"You'll go by yourself?" Sparrow asked her.

"Darken Gray and Hu will travel with me."

She nodded. "How?"

Ivory smiled. "I can summon a Chariot pulled by the Unconquered Sun's stallions that can take me `cross Creation in a day!"

"No," Sparrow and Heron said almost simultaneously.

Ivory looked between them while Heron and Sparrow looked at one another. "You first," Heron said.

Sparrow looked at Ivory. "If you go that fast people will notice you, they will want to know what you are up to."

"That's what I was thinking as well," Heron said.

"Well, I can't walk. It's too far!"

Sparrow looked over her shoulder. "I suppose you could take the Red Sky." She really did not want to give up the ship.

"Red Sky?" Ivory asked.

"The cargo ship."

"No," Heron said.

"Come on," Ivory exclaimed.

Heron smiled. "I have a better idea Golden Eyes," and he reached out to ruffle her hair. "You'll go to Lookshy. It's a little dangerous, especially considering we killed a number of solders from Lookshy, but with Hu and Darken Gray should should be okay. Give them two weeks of your time, repair everything you can, in exchange for a non-functional, non-combat airship of your choice."

"How is that a better idea? She loses two weeks, and then another few days that she needs to spend fixing the ship they let her take."

"Days?" Ivory said, sounding offended.

Heron was still smiling. "Where ever Golden Eyes is going can't be that important to us if we won't even give her a ship."

Ivory and Sparrow looked at one another. Sparrow smiled first, but Ivory was only a beat behind her.

"And we improve relations between Lookshy and us," Sparrow said.

"And I get a better look at what they have."

Sparrow laughed as she gathered up Ivory and Heron in a hug. "We are going to win."

"Course we are," Ivory said dismissively.

Sparrow leaned in, and above Ivory's head where she would not see, kissed Heron.

* * *

**Afterward**

…or what the heck happened to Lightning and Courtesan

* * *

When I started writing this I thought that it would be roughly the same length as Untruths of Time and To Stand Once More in the Sun and like those two stories would be complete into itself.

When I reached the same length as those other two stories I realized that I had misjudged the length of the story. So it was either wait at least another year before I posted anything as I kept working, or split the story and post the first half.

I decided to post the first half with some rewriting. The first victim were all the later chapters featuring Lightning and Courtesan and they were cut. For fans of the Lunar and Abyssal, sorry, but in the second half they get to dominate the first several chapters as I catch them up to the same time as the others characters.

I also re-wrote the section featuring the Wyld Hunt. My original plan was have Deled and a Legion attack the Ice Tree, but it felt very similar to the battle that Sparrow had fought against Achiba.

I am not entirely pleased with how the part with Deled and his Hunt ended. Not that I feel it was bad, just that it may have been possible to make it better…

As to when the second part will be available… not really sure.

There is some other writing I want to try, so I might put this aside for a while. I suppose that if I get a lot of feedback and constructive criticism for Secrets and Roguery that can help me improve the next story that may speed things up.

If there are any hanging plot points you would like to see resolved, questions answered, please let me know. If there are any places in Creation that you think would be interesting to appear in the story, I'll see what I can do; and if not this story, then maybe another.

I m considering doing some retconning or off scene story progressing as I am re-thinking Ivory's Lunar Mate. A character like Kanamemo's Haruka or Doki Doki Shcool Hours' Rio Kitagawa could be amusing, though might be a bit too farcical.

May also introduce a new Sidereal to look after Ivory if Dreaming Blue decides to hang around with Heron and Sparrow and crew while Ivory is off on her adventure.

Then there is Typhoon's shard which could be creating a new Abyssal. Maybe one that really likes Sparrow because she ended that jerk Deled.

Weird.

Might also wait and see how third Edition Exalted effects the world and see about using it.

So, in conclusion, sorry about Lightning and Courtesan disappearing, I promise they will be back. If you thought the part with the Wyld Hunt was a bit weak, I am inclined to agree with you. And if you want to send me feedback, I will appreciate it. If you have a account and send me messages I will be happy to engage in discussion. (Or if you post to a forum let me know and I will try to participate.)

* * *

**Bonus Material**

* * *

**Every Daikliave Has a Story**

In the time before time, when the Primordials ruled Creation, these great beings would find ways to amuse themselves with what they had built. The brought into being a behemoth called Ba'mon, a leviathan, made of orichalcium, with five great heads, and they turned it lose on Creation, watching it cross the world, destroying entire civilizations.

It was not the first such behemoth the Primordials had created, and it would not be the last. And as many times before the Primordials lost interest in the actions of Ba'mon, though Ba'mon still wandered Creation, destroying what it found.

When the gods planed their rebellion, when the Exalted were created in secret, the Unconquered Sun took five of his Dawn Castes, and with them Luna Brought five of her Lunars, and together they hunted Ba'mon.

Hidden by the trickery of Luna and the Sidereals of Jupiter, the Unconquered Sun directed his Dawns in battle, so that they could kill Ba'mon.

When Ba'mon was dead his huge carcass would be dragged away by Mountain Folk who would forge it into a vast arsenal for the Solars. But before that from each head the Unconquered Sun drew part of the Behemoth's spirt into one of its teeth, and pulled that tooth from the head's jaw.

The Unconquered Sun then called forth five of his Twilights and gave them each a tooth to forge into a weapon. While the Unconquered Sun and the Primordial Autocthon supervised, the Twilights forged the weapons, refining the metal, and the spirit within it, turning that spirt's hater of its killers into complete devotion. The Five Fang Weapons, as they were called, were presented to the Dawns on the eave of the first battle with the Primordials.

One of the Fang Weapons was a short, golden blade, called Adder's Tongue in the language of the time.

Adder's Tongue was a blade, that in the hands of a Solar, had an edge of unfathomable sharpness, so durable it would never chip or dull, even were it to cleave a thousand thousand necks.

While the weapon lacked power, it was as fast as its name sake, and the great Dawn General who wielded it would draw it to fight the hordes of shock troops the Primordials spawned.

Adder's Tongue would pass to the Dawn's next exaltation, and the next after that, always a weapon of his or her panoply.

And millennia after it was first forged, in the city of Meru, a Dawn Caste would slay over two hundred Terrestrials, over three thousand mortals and three Sidereal assassins before, his blood burning with poisons, finally fell atop of mountain of corpses.

Adder's Tongue would be recovered from the battle site, and passed through many hands, but none would ever awaken its true power.

The thief Rappel would steal it from an armoury in Lookshy before he left, and he would hold onto it until one day, in the North, he would offer it to the Dawn Caste Sparrow Hawk.

Adders Tongue (Level 4 Artifact)

Speed 3  
Accuracy +5  
Damage +5L  
Defence +5  
Rate 4  
Minimums Dex 3  
Attune 8 Motes  
Tags P

The user can reflexively spend 2 motes to completely ignore all soak that comes from their target's worn armour. They can also spend 2 motes to destroy any non-artifact weapon that their opponent uses to parry their attack.

The story behind Sparrow's sword breaker is that Sparrow asked Ivory to make her one, and Ivory did. Check back in a few centuries and it will likely have more for a story.

* * *

**Feedback to Reviews**

TalosX10 - Yes, without Heron Ivory and Sparrow not work together if Heron was gone, but they would also not having anything to be jealous over… And I hope you enjoyed Deled's end.

Thanks to everyone else who took the time to write.


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